Shattered into Oblivion
by angelnlove52
Summary: After a misunderstanding, our favorite couple splits ways. Shattered and broken, Bella tripps into a life of drugs and darkness. Will she be able to find light in a loveless and broken world? HEA included. updated wkly
1. Guilty as Charged

****Look for my long AN at the end.

Disclaimer::: Mrs. Meyers owns the wonderful world and characters of Twilight. I've only fucked them up beyond recognition for my own enjoyment and outlet. The plot is owned and originally written by Angelnlove52, © 2010.

A Note from Your Author: It was never my idea to write about my life. I never thought it interesting enough to actually sort through and tell anyone any of it because honestly, there are no happily ever after's guaranteed in real life. There are no such things as fairy tales. But obviously, other people feel differently and have convinced me that the story of how I fell from grace might be able to help those who are going through the same thing. Do I want my entire sordid story out for the public eye for them to scrutinize and judge me based on simple facts, and no knowledge of me as a person? Fuck no! I will regret the issues in this book for the rest of my life. I've never been more disgusted at myself/with myself, than I am now because of these situations. But I can't change them, and people already know of my indiscretions, so what does it matter at this point anyhow? My goal in this project is to relieve some guilt, and maybe to make others feel like they aren't alone. Hell, maybe even cop up to their own transgressions and admit fault. Trust me, it works wonders and helps with the healing process. With that being said, the show must go on, and so does the story. The matters in this book are not to be taken lightly, and are not being written for attention or hopes of publication. These are just words on a page that some idiot thought should be written down, and my stupid shrink agreed. Without further ado, this is my story, how I rose and fell from grace and lost everything that ever meant anything to me.

- Isabella (Bella) Swan

_-  
Prelude: Guilty as Charged  
-_

Most addicts I have encountered as of late tend to blame their issues on their parents, previous relationships, or really anyone other than themselves. It's their way of coping and making themselves feel like they aren't total and complete fuck ups. It's some kind of sick mind game they have to play with themselves. Which, I guess, if it works, it works, right? Sure, blame mommy for leaving you with the nanny all of your life, blame your daddy issues for the reasons why you shoot up. The only thing any of it accomplishes is aiding your dependence on the substance you think you so desperately need, and leaves you with more issues than you have time or energy to deal with.

My favorite speech came the first day of rehab.

"Hi, I'm Alice, and I have a problem; it's called seeing the future, or premonitions, as some would call them. I started snorting to get the images out of my head, and before I knew it, I was addicted. The visions are gone when I'm high so I am free, and clear to do as I like."

You're probably thinking exactly what I thought, the chick was crazy. In the twenties, she would have gone through vigorous rounds of shock therapy; now days, you end up here, Paradise Valley Rehab Facility. The one you always hear about on the news, the one that caters to the stars and the rich fuckups, such as me—or Britney or Lindsay Lohan.

I'm not your stereotypical heroin addict. The truth is I rightfully blame myself for my addiction. I am the one who made the choices to wander down the dark path to solitude and destruction. I was the one who gave up on my life and allowed another man to touch me in vengeance for my fiancé working another long shift at the hospital. I was the one who still had the before mentioned 'other man' in my home, right around the time said fiancé was coming home. Subconsciously, I must have wanted to be caught, I wanted his attention. Screw the fact that he was fighting for an attending position at Saint Vincent Medical Center, forget the fact that I knew everything would blow over in a few months, and we'd be back to normal. No, I had to be the manipulative bitch and try to gain his attention by any means necessary.

The hurt I witnessed in Edward's eyes that day tore me to the point of nothingness.

My name is Bella Swan. I am a closet heroin addict and need help, but am too afraid.

_-  
Chapter One: Mistakes  
-_

"Damn it Edward!" I screamed for the millionth time, pissed off about him getting called away, yet again, to a job that was not needed. I understood he wanted to save people, I even got his passion for it, but we were in the middle of something—a beautiful something that hadn't even broached the opening yet. We were so close, his dick was teasing my entrance, and I was pleading for penetration, begging for him, for that connection. Of course, that would be the moment his work phone would buzz with an emergency surgery. Forget the fact that he was not on call. Never mention the idea that he had the afternoon off after working a thirty-six hour shift. Don't even entertain the possibility that I needed him here, with me, loving me right at this moment because I felt unloved and disjointed over the past two days.

I groaned again as Edward pulled up his pants, and ran his hand through his thick coopery-brown hair and sighed loudly. Even with his face twisted up in agony, he was beautiful. His green eyes were still darkened with lust, the evidence of what we were doing still standing at full attention beneath the black dress pants he wore, and his face still flushed from our previous activities.

"Bella, you know this is my job, you know I have to go." He sat at my side once more and took my hand, trying to reassure me. "Baby, I'm just trying to make a better life for us. I don't want you working anymore. I want you here, I want us to have a family and be able to raise them comfortably. It's all going to be over before we know it, and…."

"And what, Edward? You want me to stay here alone, all day, missing you and having nothing to occupy myself with in the mean time? I miss you. I'm tired of going days without seeing you. I need you here," I pled aloud.

It was obvious Edward was trying to keep his calm at my previous words. He loved that I missed him, and adored the fact that I still needed him with me after the time we had vested into our relationship, but it seemed as if we'd had this argument at least a hundred times before; twenty in the past two days alone. I knew what I was signing up for when we started dating three years ago. I understood what interning and residency entailed; I just never thought he'd be gone this much as of late.

We were getting married in less than four months and he still hadn't been fitted for his tux, our honeymoon destination was still undecided and our DJ/band had yet to be agreed upon. These were all things I could overlook. What I was having a hard time with, were the missed opportunities to cuddle, the nonexistent handholding and the vacant lips stationed on my face. It wasn't like we didn't do these things when we were together—it was that we were always apart, so these tasks that normal couples take for granted could never be done.

If Edward wasn't at work, he was asleep or studying, or I was at work. Our schedules were fighting against us and every day I found myself cursing and resenting everything about our situation. When I was home, he was asleep, when he was home I was working or living a normal life during the daylight hours. I couldn't help but to feel like a petulant child. I wanted to throw a temper tantrum. I wanted to actually see him, spend real quality time with him, but it was impossible. He had a night life and I had one of the living.

"You know that's not what I meant, nor what I want. Look, I'll be home as soon as I can," he reassured, letting go of me and preparing to stand up.

"And what about me, Edward, you just expect me to lay here, naked and wait for you?" I knew I was being childish, but I was the closest to an Edward induced orgasm I had been in weeks, _two_ to be exact. This had been the first time he had 'time' to tend to me. But damnit, did he have to stop right in mid thrust to check his fucking cell phone, afraid he'd miss the all too precious call from Saint Vincent, leaving me to feel like aged chuck beef instead of the succulent porterhouse he was just eagerly dining on moments ago.

"Do whatever you have to do, Bella, I have to go." As the second page came, he hastily kissed my forehead and left me there, open and ready for him.

I waited until I heard the garage door click before I turned over and screamed into his pillow with all of the rage I possessed. Embarrassingly enough, I would eventually have to admit that there was kicking and punching of the mattress in a full out five year old temper tantrum that ensued.

His words kept pounding through my head like a pulsating heart, "Do whatever you have to do, Bella, whatever you have to do."

The feelings of rejection and disgust radiated through my body and gracefully reached up and suffocated me until I was gasping for breath. Did he not want me anymore? Is that the true reason behind his wanton abandon? Was the hospital more important than I was? Is there reason for me to believe I was pressuring him into staying in a relationship he didn't want? Was there someone at the hospital he wanted to see more? Was that who kept paging him just as we'd fall into bed?

My heart started to race with the ideas and questions running through my mind. On some level, I knew I was being irrational and my mind kept trying to reassure me, for fucks sake I was a model. Hugh Heffner kept asking me to join his league of extraordinary fuckables, but my love for Edward had always led me to say no. I'm not stupid, I know I'm not the ugliest brunette in the sea of Los Angeles women, but I also was smart enough to know I wasn't the most beautiful either. There would always be another Jessica Alba or Pamela Anderson running around in all their desirable glory reminding me I was more than just some pretty face on top of what others deemed to be an awesome body. I did know without any uncertainty however, that up until we moved here from Seattle I'd never felt this degraded—this alone.

Throughout high school and college, I had always modeled, done pageants, even some regional commercials and ads. Funny enough, that was how Edward and I met. His brother, Emmett, attended a photo shoot for a local car dealership that his girlfriend and I were in. Edward just so happened to tag along and to say it was love at first sight would be an understatement. We noticed each other around campus more frequently, found each other studying in the same section of the library, and even discovered we lived on the same street and all before I agreed to finally date him. As cliché (or Jerry McGuire) as it sounds, he had me at "Hello." I was just trying to seal the deal before I fell even more in love with the beautiful, smart, funny, and caring, man that is Edward Cullen.

Five months later, Garrett (my now agent) discovered me and asked Rose and I to relocate to the vast sea known as LA. It was idiotic, but I was terrified to ask Edward to move with me. I didn't know if we were at that level yet, but I knew I wanted him here with me, forever. We'd already talked about marriage, and this just seemed like the next feasible step in our relationship. I just never thought it would bring me to this point—bring _us_ to this point.

Edward jumped into his internship at St. Vincent with pride, while I took on the more brainless tasks of posing for Vogue, and being featured in runway shows. He was out saving people while I showed up in Sports Illustrated Swim Suit Edition. He was rescuing the dying while I was posing in my bra and a pair of jeans for Maxim.

Regrettably, I called one of my fellow Maxim girls (and Edward's now sister-in-law) Rose, and asked her to go out with me tonight. Fuck, if Edward wasn't here, why should I have to be? I didn't want to be here alone; I didn't want to be wallowing in my own non-orgasmic self pity. I wasn't that girl, and I wouldn't be tonight.

The plan never formulated in my head, I didn't enter the club that night hoping to get lucky or to meet someone. I was simply looking for a means to the end of my sophomoric behavior, and to pull myself from my stupor. I never intentionally forgot about the stupid diet I was trying, or that the diet pills I was taking weren't recommended to be taken with large doses of alcohol. There was no surgeon general warning not to take the Adipex-P with Vodka, so it never crossed my mind that after three drinks I would be falling into guys, laughing at their stupid jokes and become fall-flat-on-my-face drunk.

But, I'll never be able to forget the kiss. The first single-girl-kiss that led to the demise of everything I held sacred. That nerve racking, too harsh, wrong lips, sucking the life out of me, kiss that I will end up regretting for the rest of my life. The rest of it was a complete haze. I don't remember how I got home that evening, or what the fuck I was doing on _our_ bed with this strange man. I knew we didn't have sex, but I guess actions and scenarios speak louder than any assurances I could offer.

Edward never said a word to me after he kicked scuz-bucket out. He never batted an eye at me as he made his way to the shower to clean the hospital grime off of him, and he most certainly never gave me any indication that he was okay when he grabbed his pillow, ripped the pillow case off, and made his way to the guestroom.

I sat outside the door and listened to whatever sounds he allowed to pass through the sound barrier, which weren't many. A sniffle here, a groan there, mostly just tossing and turning. Words were irrelevant at this point. I'd seen the dead look in his eyes as he gave me one look before he left the room. With my drunken and careless actions, I had torn the heart of the only man I had ever loved, and ruined everything I had ever wanted.

My tears were silent as I listened to him fall apart over everything I had done, and suddenly, all of my insecurities were for nothing. I was a stupid, stupid girl who didn't deserve the love of the man on the other side of this door. I was a raging slut, though I had only ever had sex with Edward, and I was ultimately the worst fucking human being on the face of the Earth.

After listening for two hours, I gained enough courage to sneak into the room. Once again, he paid me no attention nor did he breathe a word or acknowledge me in any way. I lay down beside him, softly stroked his cheek, and fought my sobs from erupting into the silence of the room. The stray tears on his cheeks were caught in the slight moonlight that cascaded through the window, and when my thumb brushed them, he opened his eyes to look into mine. The forest green that I loved was clouded with so much pain, with one look he took a needle and stabbed it into my veins, silently killing me and ripping my heart to shreds.

"Nothing happened, I swear to you, Edward, nothing happened, we drunkenly kissed at the bar, but nothing happened. Please believe me," I whisper, clutching his hand for dear life. "I don't even know why, or how or… Edward, I'm so sorry. I never…." My voice gave out on me as the tears flowed more prevalent from his eyes.

The more I watched, the more distant he became. He began building a wall around his heart and blocked me and my love out. Neither of us slept that night, both just lay there, watching each other, silently crying tears of loss and silent pain. Some time in the wee hours of the morning, I must have fallen asleep, and when I woke up, Edward was nowhere to be found. Instead, on my pillow, where our bed was supposed to be I found a note.

_Isabella,_

I inhaled harshly. He never called me by my full name. He'd been the one to come up with Bella when we first met. He said it was more fitting, a name of beauty for the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen.

_I'm at the hospital, they called me in, again._

_The bed is at the dumpster, there will be another one delivered some time this afternoon._

_I'm not sure when I will be home, but please wait for me… we need to talk._

_I believe you, but it doesn't make it hurt any less. _

_Just please, wait for me._

_Edward_

At first sight, I noticed the lack of the closing. There read no love, no forever, no always, no sign of adoration. Only Edward. The ideas of what that could possibly symbolize were making me queasy and I had to draft those thoughts into others deciding that he didn't write 'love' because it wasn't one of his normal letters. Typically, he would write something like, To My Dearest Bella, or Love of My Existence. Those were always my favorite because they were mostly gushy and things you read in a Nicholas Sparks novel.

I waited, and waited, and just to change things up, waited some more. The only time I left my seat on the sofa was when the delivery men brought our new bed, the three times I had to go to the bathroom, and the two times I had to answer the phone—each time hoping it was Edward, and each time I was disappointed. Finally, at ten on the dot he walked through the door. Slowly, I rose to my feet and turned to look at him. It was obvious he was drunk, and even more apparent that he was still only a shell after my actions last night.

"How do you know you didn't do anything? You didn't even wake up when I beat the shit out of that fucker," Edward asked, jumping straight to the point.

"My underwear was still on and my tampon was still in," I answered softly, ashamed these tangible clues were all I had to go by. Even more embarrassed because I was speaking out about my period, although I knew Edward didn't care and he was a doctor.

"So, in theory, you could have put in a new tampon and put your underwear back on?" His voice was skeptical, and made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

"I know I didn't have sex with him, Edward. There was nothing on the sheets, no blood, no semen, no nothing, and unless he has a very small penis I don't feel like I was penetrated."

After all, I remember the kiss; I remember there was nothing gentle about anything he was doing to my body. If anything, I'm pretty sure I have a few scratches from his nails and a few bruises from him grabbing me too hard. If that wasn't enough I'm usually a little sore after not having sex for weeks at a time, but especially when everything inside of me is so tight from cramps and bloating. The fact that Edward wanted to have sex with me yesterday while all of this was going on completely baffled me. How a guy could just not care was beyond me.

He held his hand out to me and offered me a small white pill. Questionably, I looked into his eyes and noticed just how ragged for wear he really was. His hair was beyond its normal chaos, his stubble was two days old, and the dark bags under his eyes made him look old and disheveled and for the first time since I laid eyes on him he had frown lines.

"It's a morning after pill. I'm guessing you don't want to be pregnant if anything did happen. Am I fair in assessing that?"

"You said you believed me," I whispered.

His words hurt. How could he not believe me? The guy in the bed and I were still fully clothed when Edward came in, at least from the mid-waist down. I had never lied to him before, why would he think I'm starting now?

"That was before I saw the press on it. Do you remember being pressed up against a car, making out with him? The damn motherfucking paparazzi followed you home last night and got a good angle of his tongue down your throat. Yes, supposedly, at one point before the two of you entered the house you looked like you were contemplating your actions, but then you tripped and started all over again. How the hell am I supposed to believe you went from hot and heavy, practically raping the guy on our door step, to nothing once you reached the bedroom?" His voice started off softly only leading to the point of screaming toward the end. His arms flailed around like a mad man on speed. Tears pooled in his eyes, but never fell.

"Everyone in the hospital is talking about it. They keep looking at me, giving me sideway glances, and whispering. I have patients asking if it's true, if I'm back on the market. How the _fuck_ am I supposed to explain any of this when I don't even know what's going on myself! But do you know the worst part of it all, Isabella?"

The yelling had subsided and now his voice was a soft almost whisper, which was more terrifying.

"The worst fucking part of the whole thing is the asshole showed up in my motherfucking ER this morning with blood poisoning, two cracked ribs and a concussion from some other low life out there who was trying to avenge you. _And I had to fucking treat him_!" Cue the yelling.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"Rose and Emmett insist that you did call once you were in the house and asked them to come over, that you did something bad and you needed their help. Em says you were crying hysterically claiming you were an undesirable screw up or some shit, but when they came, you wouldn't open the door. They tried to call and you didn't answer the phone. Rose claims you only had three drinks and doesn't understand why you got so drunk, and suggests we get you a blood test ordered up, so come on, you're driving us to the hospital and we're doing labs."

I was in no position to argue, so I took the pill, for his own satisfaction, and threw it back, swallowing it without water and followed him out to his car.

The ride to the hospital was conducted in complete silence. I could feel Edward's gaze on me, but I was too chicken to look at him. The anger was radiating off him in waves, and I couldn't decipher if it was because of what I had done, or for the possibility that there might be something in my tox screen, maybe it wasn't either of the previous options and in reality it was because he had to fix up the other man.

I decided long ago that once you see one hospital, you have seen them all. St. Vincent was no exception other than it was in a bigger city than I was used to. The typical day traffic was nonexistent, and at eleven at night, the only cars in the parking lot were those of the night staff and the few people awaiting treatment in the ER. At least something was going my way, no audience and no media.

Edward led me through the winding halls until we reached the lab, I relished in the fact that it was as empty as the hallways we just passed through. I didn't want anyone to see our scandal. As public as last night was, I wanted the drug test to be private, and just between us. Regardless if I was innocent or not, I didn't want this to get out; my life was hell as it was, I didn't want any more leaked to the stir crazy media. Without words, Edward set me up, and stuck me, drawing out two containers of blood, and placed a green top on both. That was the first time I had ever been stuck with a needle and enjoyed it. Somewhere in my gut the sharp pain was warranted and justified. I'd had a slight taste, and punishment seemed to be what I wanted for my guilty conscious.

...0.0.0.

The next several days flew by in a hazed blur. Edward was distant and I remained quiet, trying to respect his need for space, and we slept apart… or at least until I would sneak into the guest room to watch Edward sleep. I knew somewhere in his subconscious he knew I was there, but was either too tired, or uncaring to take notice.

Sleep completely evaded me. Every time I would close my eyes, visions of the club would come streaming back. I still couldn't gather memories of anything after the kiss and it frustrated me to no end to not know what happened. Of course, I could always go to TMZ and watch all of my transgressions unfold, but I couldn't find it in myself to be that masochistic. Rose, of course, called numerous times trying to walk me through the evening and trying to figure it all out herself, only for the conversation to end with us both being at complete losses. Parts of her evening were lost as well, but huge chunks weren't missing, all her actions were accounted for.

Food was an idea, not a thing for me. The moment anything would pass over my lips, I'd vomit. The very idea of trying to nourish myself churned places in me I didn't know existed. I was falling into a bitter hole of self-disgust and there were no degrees of self-preservation. I wasn't interested in making sure I kept my strength, I only wanted answers. I only wanted this to disappear.

One of the final blows came when Edward decided it might be best if we postponed the wedding. I agreed simply because I was trying to do anything to show him that I was here, and in love with him. I wanted to do anything possible to show him how sorry I was, how much of a fucking screw up I was, but that didn't mean I liked his decision. Since the moment I saw Edward eye fucking me at the photo shoot, I knew I wanted to marry him. I knew instantly he was the guy I was meant to spend the rest of my life with. These past three years have only been a formality.

At first, we put it off due to all of the California changes—we wanted to make sure that we could make it work. Then stress with his internship popped up, then my dad got sick, and every time we turned around there seemed to be another distraction—another reason telling us to wait. At this point, all we had was time.

If it were up to me, I would have married Edward the afternoon we met. Hell, I would have even married him in my bikini with hair dripping down my body. I would have left the shoot, sopping wet, half hanging out everywhere just so I could say that he was my husband. And the sad thing was, I didn't know how great he was at that point. I was addicted from the get go, and nothing would ever change that. He had single handedly, immediately became the most sought after drug for me… my own personal brand of heroin.

His words for describing our love are much healthier, depending on how you want to look at it; he called us fatally attracted to one another, but it was true. We could feel each other's presence; a slight tingle would start on the back of my neck whenever he was coming toward me. When he touched me, I felt the distinctive spark of love. Everything about him invites me in, his voice, his face, even his smell. As if he needed any of that, I was unable to outrun him, to fight him off, or to turn him away. As much as it should have intimidated me, I was never afraid of what I felt toward Edward.

That was until this happened. The pangs of guilt, the fear of losing him, the self-pity, it was all consuming me and pulling me into a dark pool of my own worthlessness. Suddenly, the feelings of love and completion were out weighed by my own disgust. I had turned something as beautiful as our love into something dark and volatile. I felt like the other shoe was about to drop and I was going to lose him for all of eternity. My fear was crippling, leaving me a sobbing mess on the floor at times, holding my aching chest together with my arms drawn across it.

Tonight was just like any other night, I snuck into the guest room as soon as I heard Edward's breathing even out, and the soft snore escape his lips. His face was clouded by its usual pain, which only intensified my guilt. Ever so gently, I rested my hand on Edward's cheek and relished in his warmth.

"I know I have no right to worry about this, and I know I deserve it, but I feel like I'm losing you. I feel you slipping away from me. Edward, I love you so much my heart hurts. I'm not me without you, I don't know if I'll be able to survive. I need you like my lungs need air. You're the only man I'll ever love," I whisper, holding in the tears.

"Please, don't leave me. I promise I'll never do anything like that again, I promise I'll quit modeling, I'll stay home, we can have a million kids, and I will love you every day for the rest of my life. You're all I want. You're all I need." In the end, the sobs won out.

Just as I predicted, Edward's eyes slowly opened, acknowledging he was aware of my presence.

"We'll get through this, Bella, it's just going to take some time," he answered, his tone soft and full of sleep. For the first time since the incident, he reached his hand out, attentively touching my cheek before brushing the tears away. The skin on skin contact made me shudder with a longing so deep in my soul it burned where he caressed. I leaned into him unconsciously, yearning for more, needing his touch like I needed the air in my lungs.

What would I do if this were gone? How could I cope? I would be nothing without him, my heart would fail to beat. The air stuttered from my lungs at the thought of him not being here, my eyes filled with new tears. I could feel the end coming as if it were calling my name.

"I'm not going to lie to you, I love you, I honest to God do, but I don't like you right now. I can't trust you, and until that trust is earned back, I don't know how we will make it."

"Tell me what you want me to do, I'll do anything. I just want to see you happy again." He pulled me to him and held me close to his chest, fitting my head under his chin.

"I just need time. Walking into that room just blindsided me, Bella, I mean how would you have reacted?"

"Probably worse than you are," I hiccupped.

I figured at this point that honesty was the best policy. Had I walked in and seen Edward in bed with another girl I would have blown a gasket. I would have screamed, hit, shoved, and probably kicked him out until I came to my senses. This is why he is such a better human being than I am.

"I talked to Rose about that night. She said you went into the club upset. Was it because I left you?"

I shook my head against him. I was disappointed because he left, but that wasn't what had me so down right depressed. "I just miss you. I felt like I was losing you, like the hospital held your attention and I was getting left in the dust. I felt unwanted and undesirable."

I pulled away slightly and looked up into his eyes; I wanted to gauge his reaction for my next question. "Do you think the hospital would give you a few days off? I don't want to leave this bed, I just want to lay here and pretend like it's only us in the world."

He was hesitant for a second before he thought it over. "I'll see what I can do," he offered.

He paused; the look in his eyes was telling me he wanted to say something else but was unsure of how to say it.

"What?" I whispered, almost sounding afraid.

"You do know I know nothing happened in that room right? I'm not mad because I think you slept with him. I trust you when you say you didn't sleep with him. I'm angry because it could have had a very different outcome. What if you would have slept with him… what if you said no, but he still went ahead with it. What if he was some kind of psycho and killed you. Do you realize what could have happened to you? What ultimately could have happened to us?"

For the first time since he left that fateful day I was thinking clearly. All of his worries solidified in me and caused me to realize the severity of what could have happened, and the thoughts terrified me. I cringed and cowered back into Edward.

"Your tox-screen came back, you ran positive for GHB, Bella. I know you didn't do it on purpose, and it explains why you don't remember, and why you felt so drunk so fast. I tested Mike, the guy you had here, he was positive as well." I looked back up at him slightly confused, why would we both test positive? "Rose came back positive for some other mixture. Bella, you have to promise me you won't go back there."

"I promise," I answered shakily. "When did you find out?"

"I got your results back immediately because I put a stat on it. Mike and Rose's didn't come back until yesterday."

The room started getting warm, and my heart started to pound. Someone drugged us. Something worse could have happened than what already had.

That night Edward held me tight, and kissed the top of my head as we cuddled, basking in the togetherness that surrounded us. But as I learned the next morning, things are always much clearer in the morning light.

The coming days tested Edward and me. He was finally back in our bed, each night we clung to each other as if the world were coming to an end, and each morning we'd awaken only to act like strangers. The TV and radio were full of my infidelity, the pictures were all over the supermarket, and the gossip was clouding the internet. Not that anyone cared that I had screwed around on Edward; no, the hot gossip was that I was back on the market, and Dr. McHotty was free to see other patients.

Due to the media coverage and the paparazzi that had been appearing at the hospital, Edward was forced to take a leave of absence until everything blew over. I spoke with my publicist daily trying to get the word out that there was no case of infidelity, and that Edward and I were still very much together, but it only proved to be a waste of hot air. Everyone clouded what they wanted to hear into fact, and ignored the truth.

Edward and I became cooped up in our own home, held hostage by cameras and smelly people holding them. The longer we were locked up, the more we blamed me for the cabin fever.

"Had you just stayed home that night, none of this would have happened. We'd still be getting married in three months, fuck, we'd be happy right now!" he yelled at me, his hands fisting in his hair. He stood over me while I cowered into the sofa. I wasn't afraid of him, I was ashamed, I knew no matter what Edward would never hurt me.

"How many times do I have to apologize? I'm sorry, Edward. I'm sorry I messed up your perfect life. I'm sorry I am preventing you from going to your one true love, work. I'm sorry I was drugged and did things I don't remember, and things that are totally out of my nature. I'm sorry I'm such a fucking disappointment, what more do you want me to apologize for?" By this point, I was beyond exasperated. I wanted to forget everything and live the rest of our lives. I wanted to cope with this, move on to getting married, and start our perfect little life that we had planned. All the fighting was doing was putting a huge damper on the idea of us ever being able to work things out.

"Shit, Bella," he muttered. His eyes held such remorse, his hands dropped to his sides and he held a look of defeat. "I just don't know what to do. I love you, but it just doesn't seem enough anymore."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Fear was gaining control of my body as I processed his words. That sounded like an opening argument to giving up. My heart froze at the idea of him giving up on me—on us. He couldn't. He promised me forever, and forever wasn't finished yet.

"I can't live like this anymore. How much longer are we going to be cooped up in here? How much longer are they going to be ruling our lives? I can't fucking do this anymore. I gotta get out of here."

"I'll come with you." The statement was nothing more than a whisper, but I knew he heard me.

I could only blame myself for his feelings of claustrophobia. Somewhere I also rationalized my need to go with him to insure he wasn't leaving me for good. A breath of fresh air is one thing, but abandonment was a whole other ball field that I couldn't play in.

He simply shook his head as he looked to the floor.

"So, let's go on vacation?" I offered softly.

Somewhere in my body, I knew what his words meant. I knew he was done, but I just couldn't understand how he had gone from loving me one second, to over me in the next.

"Why bother, they will only follow us there. Probably get more compromising pictures of you."

My brain was completely blank, trying to process what Edward had just said. I felt like a MS-DOS computer living in the world of the internet, slow, out dated, and lost in the times.

"What are you talking about, Edward?"

To answer my question he threw the latest copy of Maxim my way, revealing me standing there in a bright cobalt blue bra and a pair of matching lacy boy shorts.

"Why not just strip it all off and pose for Hugh, huh? Are you trying to hurt me? Is that what all this is about? Are you that pissed about me trying to achieve a future for us that you do something like this?" Edward's voice rang through the room with a menacing chill to it. I was horrified by the ice that resonated at the edges as it cut through me like a knife.

I glided my fingers over the page, outlining the edges of my body, horrified at what I saw. The pictures in question were supposed to remain private. I had spoken to the photographer before my Maxim shoot and asked if he could take the pictures so I could give them to Edward as a birthday present. Either he betrayed me, or there was some screw up and Maxim owned the rights to them. Anger didn't even have time to register in me before Edward pulled his bags out of the guest room and brought them to the front door.

"Edward… no… no…" I began to plead.

Immediately, I was on my feet and rushing toward the door trying to get between the two beings.

"It's not what it looks like, we can call Chris Evan and get it figured out."

"That's what you always tell me isn't it. 'Nothing happened,' 'it's not what it looks like.' Fuck, Bella, it's really starting to sound like you fuck everyone, doesn't it?"

I blanched at his words.

He sighed loudly and ran his fingers through his hair while the other hand lay on the doorknob.

"Give me time to cool off. Maybe this circus will calm down, and we can reexamine, but right now I can't even look at you."

His words rang with such finality, I knew there was no room to grovel or beg him to stay. My heart shattered as he looked back at me, tears running down his face and glossing his eyes.

"I love you, Bella, but some times my love isn't enough to carry the both of us. You aren't good for me anymore. It all hurts too much." With those last parting words, he disappeared through the entryway.

The moment the door closed behind him I was in pursuit again, I ran toward the door in an effort to stop him but I stopped the moment I opened the door, cornered by all of the camera flashes and people screaming questions at me. I watched Edward look back at me as he got into the waiting taxi. Seeing him leave like that broke my heart even more and I crumbled to the ground of our door way, tears harshly falling, broken sobs spilling out everywhere, and my fingernails digging into my scalp as I tried to cover myself and protect myself from the scrutiny of all those around me. The explosion of flashes from cameras caught yet another moment of weakness. I vaguely thought of how yet another horrifying moment of my life was now immortalized on film for the world to see…documented forever.

He left me. My Edward had enough and left me broken and mangled on the floor.

That was the end of my existence. That was the moment something in me cracked and I gave up on life and myself. If the person who loved me most in the world couldn't stand to be near me, what was left for me? what was the point of going forward?

When Edward walked way, I lost everything I ever had, everything I ever wanted, and everything I never knew I needed.

May I introduce myself; I am Bella Swan, lonely spinster, and idiot extraordinaire.

**AN:::** I'm going to try to make as few Author's notes as possible throughout the story, so I figured I'd get this out of the way early. This is my first story back in the FF world in months *and I do mean months…like 10 or so to be exact?*.

I do have this story completed, with only the Epi to write, so I can tell you precisely that unless I decide to add more (which doesn't seem likely because I'm actually really happy with this) there will be 13 chapters and an Epi to this story. With that being said, I'm going to try to update once a week, I'm not sure on the day because it will probably be on my days off, but Sunday is looking promising.

I have had soooo much help with this story so I'm going to do a mass thank you (When my previous stories were deleted I lost screen names, so I apologize a head of time).

Chapters 1-4…Ashley W, you were awesome! Thank you so much for your assistance! If you're interested in going through the rest…let me know. lol.

Chapters 1-10…Anders (lonelydoc), thank you for the male input! It was much needed, especially with the Edward parts. Overall, you helped develop the Edward role much better than I could ever hope to.

Gee… (GeeOh) my wonderful pre-reader who put so many finishing touches on this so I could produce a much better, well rounded product. I love you. In three words. You. Complete. Me.

Tiffany….(VampPixieJAK) my lover, my friend, my crazy slut. Thank you for betaing this dark and twisted tale. I don't know how my life would function without you.

Kim… (Kneon) my first line of defense, my pre-reader who adored this story so much that I couldn't quit when it got too dark and draining. Who held my hand throughout this entire process and made sure I wrote until everything was as it is now. Thank you.

To anyone I missed, I'm sorry, and thank you.


	2. Fatefull Meetings

Thank you to all the reviewers out there! They mean the sun and the moon to me.

Thank you to Ashley, Gee, Tif and Anders for working on this chap, and Kim for pre-reading.

Disclaimer: Mrs. Meyers owns all Twilight references and characters.

Plot originally written by angelnlove52, © 2010.

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_Chapter Two: Fateful meetings_  
-

The memories of how happy we once were crippled me, causing me to fall into a deep, dark, dismal state of mind. Food lost its savor, colors lost their luster and air became stale and stagnate. Nothing mattered anymore, and he'd only been gone a day—not even a day, twelve hours. For twelve hours, I laid by my front doorstep not caring who took my picture, not caring who saw me at rock bottom, only remembering everything that we were, how we met and the glisten that was in his eyes that first day.

"_Hey, you see that big, bear-like man over there?" Rose asked me as she raised the sponge above her chest and squeezed the water out. We were supposed to be pretending to wash cars, but unfortunately the memo had been mixed up somewhere between the hands of the car dealer and our agent. _

"_The one standing by the ugly lime green convertible?" I asked, hardly darting my eyes, not wanting to cause a scene, as I sprayed some water at Rose. We were taking turns dousing each other and trying to follow directions about making it 'as sexy as possible.' I was secretly waiting for them to pull out the kiddy pool full of jell-o and insist we start wrestling. If I didn't need the money to make the rent this month I would have said 'hell no, find a stripper for this shit', but that rent check was needed at the beginning of next week and my banking account had a whopping twenty-two fifty in it. _

"_That's the one. That's Emmett… he's a senior at UW majoring in Criminal Justice. When I make it big, he's going to be my body guard… in every way imaginable." Rose started giggling at her sexual innuendo. I'd heard much more perverse things come from her mouth, but hey, who was I to say anything about this one lacking, it was better than anything I would have come up with. After all, she was the much more experienced of us two. _

_Rose and I grew up in a small town three hours south of Seattle; a town that hardly shows up on any map, a town so condensed with trees and rain that if you blinked you would swear it was a blurb on the radar while you drove down the one-oh-one. Forks, Washington was home of very few things and held no opportunities for the future, the community was great, the people were loving and the crime was at an all time low—in large part to my dad, Charlie. Charlie had grown up in Forks and shortly after my mom left us in her home town of Phoenix, decided we should move back; I was four at the time. Although his family was no longer in the area, his friends from high school still were, and they were all the family we needed. His friends substituted various parental roles during different periods of my life; one playing the mother, while another would play both parts when Charlie had to work overnighters. _

_The first day of kindergarten, Rose, then known as Rosalie, punched Jessica Stanly, this punk ass bitch who was always up in my shit, in the face. She tried to make fun of me because my dad had tied my ponytail crooked. Needless to say, we've been best friends ever since and have had each other's backs no matter the situation. When Royce gave me the creeps junior year, she trusted my judgment, broke it off as soon as I said the words and was thankful two weeks later when he was arrested for a string of rapes that happened in Port Angeles. _

_Our little sisterhood felt incomplete at times, but who were we to complain; it was just the two of us. Neither of us got along with the whores that surrounded us on a daily basis, Rose was too catty and I too innocent, so we clung to each other instead. There wasn't a night that went by that we weren't spending at one another's house. Yes, at times it was over kill, but when you both grow up only having one parent, you find other ways of supporting yourself. _

_Rosalie, and her twin brother Jasper, grew up with their mother when their father left them shortly after they were born. When we were eleven, Rose found her mother's old diary. She found out he left because he wasn't ready to be a family man; he had never wanted kids in the first place, so why stick around? Her mother never admitted it though. She always alluded to the fact that their father just didn't love her anymore. _

_Both of us being from broken homes, each having one parent that didn't love us enough, made us both emotionally driven people. Rose hugged the spiteful end of the spectrum while I was more of the shy, reserved one who allowed everyone and anyone to walk all over me. Through years of Rose educed 'counseling,' I overcame the doormat aspect of things but never fully overcame my relative shyness. _

_We were on completely opposite sides of the gamut. Rose was self-reserved. The world revolved around her and if you didn't know it, she was willing to remind you until you remembered. I on the other hand, was more selfless. My world revolved around making others happy, making sure there was always a warm meal on the table for my father when he got home, making sure Rose had everything she needed, and that Jasper wasn't falling into the clutches of one of the whores. We were the three sombreros and we'd shit a brick for the other if we had to; including the time Jasper claimed the pregnancy test in the bathroom trash was his because he wanted to see how they worked and what the results would be—the only drawback was when it came up positive. That was about the time Rose went public to her parents over everything Royce had done to her. _

_That was the hardest year of our lives. Rose obviously opted to abort the baby, being a fifteen-year-old mother was not something she was ready to do, especially with Royce being the father. Jas and I were there for her every step of the way though, and that would never change. We were each other's strong holds on reality, and the sibling love we shared was enough to bond us for all eternity. _

_Once the director yelled the shoot was a wrap, I turned my head toward Emmett to get a better look and nearly fell to my knees with what I saw. The man standing next to him was quite easily the most beautiful looking man I had ever seen. His hair was an interesting shade of brown, almost auburn, with copper and dirty blonde highlights that flashed brilliantly in the sun. His frame wasn't nearly as muscular as Emmett's, but you could tell the boy was packing. His shirt was tight enough to show off the muscular ripples of his arms and chest. I did a double take on his face and got lost in the strength of his jaw, the straight curvature of his nose and the uneven smile that he had on his lips. When my eyes met his, I knew I had met the one. Without even talking to this stranger, I was mentally planning our wedding, what our kids would look like, and how many we'd have. Our house designs were selected and the white picket fence was ordered and assembled. In a few simple words, he was the one I'd been looking for. _

_I felt the blush flood my cheeks when I noticed he was checking me out. For the first time today, I was thanking whatever communication glitch that landed me here, wearing a barely their blue bikini, wet from head to toe with soapy water. In essence, I knew I was any playboy's dream come true. _

_Now, I know that sounds rather cocky, but I know I'm not beautiful, and I'm also not ugly, I'm just me. Yes, slightly uninteresting, but I knew I had a decent rack, a flat stomach, and toned legs… those three things alone could land me a decent looking guy. The question now would be, could I land this guy? _

"_Yo! Earth to Izza-Roony! Come meet Emmett and his brother!" I groaned at the nickname of the day. Each day she would come up with a new one—most commonly falling back on 'Hey! It's a Bella!' trying to sing it in some sad imitation Italian accent. And yes, the 'hey' had to be said otherwise it was not correctly pronounced. _

_Words and common sense failed me as she took my hand, leading me to my possible destiny. _

"_Emmett, Edward, this is my best friend, adopted sister and love of my life that I've been telling you about. Isabella, this is Emmett, and his brother Edward. Say hello, Izzy Belly!" _

_I shook my head trying to clear the daze I had found myself under. "Uh, hi," I answered slightly breathlessly. _

"_Hello," Edward answered, his voice sounding that of sweet, hot, sensual, eat me a live, sex. Not that I would know, somewhere along the line my father had permanently roped up a chastity belt that caused me to still be a virgin. Yes, I, Isabella Swan, was a twenty-three year old virgin. The movie title is now trademarked to me and cannot be used or distributed without the written authorization of my agent or me. Right, like my life would ever be turned into a movie. A boring teenaged girl that grows up in a boring sleepy town with a boring nothing ever happens type of life. Yeah, it would be a snoozer, but I might have just found the title to a book I'll write before I die. It will be a tell all, and will sell out in the first week its out. _

_Anyways, back to the boy. _

_Edward's blazing, mossy green, eyes locked onto mine in a piercing stare, searching for whatever secrets they may possibly hold. I couldn't help but wish he would find whatever he was looking for. It felt almost as if he were searching for a hidden treasure. _

_He offered his hand to me, and like an idiot, I hesitated before I took it. The slight spark I felt registered through both of us as I watched his eyes widen minutely. I continued to watch facinated as he raised my still wet hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles ever so gently in an old-fashioned, chivalrous gesture. My traitor cheeks blushed with the kindness of his touch as I stood before the man of my dreams, embarrassed and sopping wet; my hair dripping down my back, and my nipples fully alert—and not because I was cold. _

"_So, Rose, what do you say we get out of here and let these two get to know each other?" Emmett asked, breaking Edward and I out of our moment. _

"_I, um, I rode with Rose," I responded, dumbly. _

"_Yeah, and I rode with Edward, so it works out perfectly," Emmett answered with a hint of mischief in his eyes. "She lives in the University District, dude. Get her home before she freezes, huh?" _

_Rose kissed my cheek and left me standing there with my hand still clasped in Edward's. "That was subtle," Edward commented with a slight chuckle. "What do you say I take you home so you can change, and then I take you out to dinner?" _

_I had to think fast. I didn't want to play into him right away. Rose had always told me to make them work for it a little; to make them wait just long enough so they'd come crawling back as putty in your hands. I'd seen it work time and time again for her, while I constantly fell and fluttered on my face after one date. _

"_Actually, I'll just get a ride with Jake." I jutted my thumb behind me, pointing toward the garage. Edward's eyes narrowed and I immediately felt the need to defend my actions. "He's a mechanic here, an old family friend… something like our dads have been best friends since birth. I don't want to be an inconvenience." _

"_I wouldn't have offered if you were an inconvenience, Isabella. Really, I don't mind." His succulent voice was sweet and sincere. I wanted to take him up on his offer, but I was more interested on playing hard to get. He knew Rose, if he really wanted me, wanted to get to know me he could always ask her for my number. _

"_Really, I should get going. It was a pleasure to meet you, Edward. We should do this again some time… minus the wet bathing suit and scantily clad nothingness that is." I motioned down my body and silently did a cheer congratulating myself for at least making him check my body out. _

I hope he thinks about me naked_, I thought, and then quickly scolded myself. My thoughts never ventured that far from the well and beaten path of propriety. Uh oh dad, the chastity belt is slipping; your little girl is in lust… or love… it can't be love, it's only been a few minutes. _

_With one last smile, I turned on my heel and sashayed toward the garage. _

"_When can I see you again?" Edward called out. My smile broadened, I had him right where I wanted him. _

"_When you find me again," I answered, not bothering to look at him. _

_That was the first night I dreamt of Edward and his beautiful, green eyes. That was the first night I learned what an orgasm felt like, and that was the night I knew I wanted him, and only him for the rest of my life. _

Even thinking about Edward and I back on that first day, it was evident we were meant to be together; only then, he could see it too. My dreams were so very vivid; my thoughts became captivated by only him. He was in my head every moment of every day, and I knew he was my soul mate; call me a hopeless romantic, but I felt the spark. I knew the fairy tales and cheesy chick flicks; he was the Eric to my Ariel, the Beauty to my Beast and Richard Geer to my Pretty Woman—only minus the whole prostitute thing. Now I felt the whole in my chest that those characters felt when they went through their various degrees of separation, only I knew I wouldn't be rescued by my prince in shining armor and I only had my own actions to blame.

All of the images of us at the beginning, us happy, plagued me while I laid there open and exposed for all of the world, while they broadcasted me and all my glory. The next memory flooded as soon as the first one ended, leaving me with more pain deep in the crevice that used to encompass my heart.

_The second time I ran into Edward Cullen was while I was exiting my English Theory class and he was entering. We literally ran into each other, and he had to hold me up. My body knew it was him immediately because of the sweet smell and life bearing spark that passed between us. I closed my eyes and savored in the feeling of his arms around me, his body pressed against mine. _

"_Are you okay?" Edward's sultry voice was just as I remembered It, soft and sensual. It was the sound of angels as they fluttered around the heavens and basked in happiness and joy abound. _

"_Yup, just great," I answer softly, finally opening my eyes only to find his instantly. "Are you? I didn't run into you too hard, did I?" The question was seemingly innocent, but Rose would have cracked a jab about the hardness factor or some shit. Everything was sexual with her… and holy shit is that what I think it is pressing up against my lower stomach. I sucked in my breath and held it to prevent myself from hyperventilating. I'd never been filled with so much want and desire, it was almost debilitating. _

"_Are you going to accept my invitation to dinner this time, Miss Swan?" Ah, pretty boy found out my last name, but he still hasn't called, he must not want me enough yet. _

"_I've actually got to run to class, we'll talk about it the next time we, er… run into one another," I answered sweetly, adding just a hint of seduction just to get his goat. To up the ante I tapped his chest and pulled away, making a beeline for the door._

"_One of these days you're going to say yes to me, Isabella, and when you do, you're never going to want to walk away again," he called down the hall after me. _

_I smiled, looked back over my shoulder, and responded, "You better hold me to that, Mr. Cullen." I sealed my words with an air kiss and chuckled as he reached out and caught it, placing his hand over his heart. This boy was making me fall hard, and I was enjoying every moment._

_The next English Theory class I made sure to make up some emergency so I could leave class early, Angela offered to cover for me and lend me her notes so I didn't fall behind. Once in the hallway, I climbed to the second floor and waited in the loft to see if Edward would show up early to class to play along with my game, or if he was unaffected by my antics. Much to my surprise, Edward never showed._

_Every time I thought about Edward, it was like a shockwave to my heart, sending vibrations roaming through my body and making me swoon all over again. He breathed life into me that I didn't know I was missing and brought sunshine that I never knew existed. I found myself singing oldie songs about happiness and lost cloudy days that I hadn't heard since my mom was around. There's nothing like having sunshine on a cloudy day, when it's cold outside and having the month of May. I guess you'll say, what could make me feel this way? _

_Everyone around me noticed the difference. My father asked me what had my spirits up so high while I talked to him on the phone last night. Jake blanched at the idea of a guy making me this happy, and Rose continually encouraged me to embrace it. Emmett? Well, he only informed me that I needed to stop cock blocking his brother, because Edward was in no way, shape, or form settling for anyone other than me. Only to continue with how he didn't understand why I was holding out because his brother was such a great catch. I could only agree; Edward was a great catch, and if anyone else tried to move in on my man, they would be sadly laid the fuck out. _

_Somewhere along the line, Rose informed me that Edward indeed did have my phone number, but didn't want to ask me out over the phone—he felt in person was more proper and he refused to treat me with anything but the utmost respect. Cue gushing heart, and screaming, dancing teenybopper. Edward did those things to me. I felt rejuvenated and light on my feet, even though I didn't realize I was ever heavy. He was like that missing puzzle piece that you find under the sofa cushion… you know that one you've been looking for, for months to complete your project. _

_Hello, I'm Isabella Swan, and I'm head-over-heels, fly-me-to-the-moon, reach-among-the-stars, grand-slam-in-the-bottom-of-the-ninth in love. And I'm loving it. _

_[That was the moment I promised to stop playing hard to get and entertain the more fitting role of being gotten. Edward Cullen had reached out and gotten me, and he didn't even know it yet, but I wasn't going to wait and let him find out from anyone else.] The next time I saw him, I was taking the reins; I was going to ask him when he was taking me to dinner. Decision made and approved. _

_Another week went by since the last time I saw Edward. Just as I hoped he was waiting for me in the hallway, but to my surprise, he was holding a single, long stemmed, pink rose in his hand. He briefly held it to his nose and looked up at me through his long eyelashes, making my knees go weak, and my stomach flood with butterflies. _

"_So, Cullen, when are you taking me to dinner?" I asked sweetly, walking right up to him and stopping in front of him._

"_Who says I want to take you to dinner?" he asked coyly, his crooked smile making my body turn to instant jell-o._

"_Well, I figured since you've already asked me twice, I'd put you out of your misery and ask you this time."_

"_I figured the third time I asked you it would be the charm."_

"_What, you just going to leave me hanging?"_

_He laughed and handed me the rose. "So, fate finally is allowing you to be with me, huh?" He paused, causing some dramatic effect in our innocent, but increasingly hot conversation. Every inch of my body was aware of him standing before me; I felt the pull his body had on mine as I reacted to him subconsciously. Every fiber in my body called for him, begged for some kind of touch, something to let me know that this was real, and he wasn't just some imaginary perfect boy that my dreams created to cause me immense happiness and joy. "How does Friday at five sound? Wear something comfortable, sneakers, and bring a jacket, we're going to be outside." _

"_Sounds perfect. Where do you want me to meet you?" I inquired, hoping he'd turn me down on the meeting him aspect. I wanted a real date, one where he came to my door, picked me up, and hell, some flowers wouldn't hurt either, but I wasn't about to get picky. I would take anything he was willing to offer. _

"_Not a chance. It's a surprise and I'm going to come pick you up. You live with Rose, right?" Outwardly, I smiled at his knowledge and declaration while inwardly I was screaming, "Score one for Team Isabella!"_

"_Yeah," I answered, furrowing my brows._

"_I saw you there yesterday when I dropped her off," he responded, answering my unspoken question. _

_I rethought Rose coming home from school yesterday, I pictured her walking up the drive but I never saw anyone she was with, or remembered any cars. I guess daddy dearest is going to be depressed, dear old Bella won't make it on the police team; she has the recollection of an imp and the observation skills of an ape._

_Edward looked over my shoulder as voices began behind us. "I better get to class. If I miss any tidbit, I'm SOL until next week." Ah, mystery solved, his class only met once a week. A tiny portion of myself was relived he wasn't avoiding me the other day. Ever so slowly he leaned forward and kissed my cheek before whispering in my ear, "Until Friday, my lovely Bella." With those words, he walked past me and into the classroom._

_I hardly knew a thing about Edward Cullen, but I was positive that I was absolutely, irrevocably in love with him, and I wouldn't change it for the world. _

Out of everything I'd been through within the past two weeks, the realization that I still loved him as much today as I did back then only solidified my need for him. As angry as he was, as betrayed as he felt, I knew that he loved me too, and this was as hard for him as it was for me. I had to do something, anything, to get him back, even if it required me dying in the process. After all, there was no life without Edward Cullen.

I am, and always will be Bella Swan, the lonely, bitter old hag.

* * *

**AN**: Please take a moment and review. I'll share a portion of my strawberry salad and margarita with you?


	3. Introductions

_I'm not Sure whether it was ff or my internet but something was total fail the other day whenI was trying to reply to reviews. I apologize! Thank you sooo much for all the thought and time you put into your reviews. Each and everyone means the world to me! Huge sparkle Edward peens for you all! I think I'm finally caught up and have responded to them all...so those of you who reviewed chapter two know when chapter 4 is being updated :)_

_Just a few things, I've been posing teasters on fictionators (.) com so you can go find it on Monday. First two paragraphs will be posted there. _

_I am on Twitter (angelnlove52) and I am getting better about posting! I just need Gee to remind me._

_Thanks to Kneon for reccing me on nosten (all you guys know how I feel about that situation.. nuf said). Love you chick!_

_Thank you to Gee and Tiff for all your work on this chappy. Big Edward kisses to you both. _

_SM owns characters, I own plot. _

_-  
Chapter Three: Introductions  
-_

Lying, broken on the doorstep is how Lauren found me twelve hours after Edward left. She pulled me up into her arms and held me tightly to her chest, yelling at all of the assholes still watching me from my front yard—from _our_ front yard. A part of my mind couldn't configure why it was Lauren there to pick me up, and not Rose. Rose was my best friend since the beginning of time, where as Lauren was new to our bond. Lauren was a friend Rose and I had obtained through modeling. We crossed paths several times during photo shoots and runway appearances, and slowly grew to a point where we became a support system. No one knew the stresses of the camera and the world like someone else in it. The three of us were kind of deemed the twisted sisters because of Rose's 'take no shit' attitude, Lauren's very public sex/drug life, and my shy, quite nature. We complimented each other, me mellowing them out, and them bringing me out of my shell. After time, the three of us found ourselves being booked together, signed as a trio and becoming recognizable because of the others. Cindy Crawford had the mole, Monroe had the hair, Naomi Campbell had her bad attitude and Coke use… we had each other.

"Get the fuck away! Can't you see the poor girl is hurting here? You sick fucks!" Lauren screamed just before she slammed the front door. Lauren led me into the living room, sat me on the sofa and held me in her arms as I cried. The tears were jarring, pulling at my lungs, dragging me into constant coughing fits of unbelievable pain and making me sound like an avid smoker. Snot and tears were pouring down my face, turning me into a blubbering, disgusting mess that even I was appalled with. No wonder he left me, I wouldn't even want to be around me…especially not like this.

The only thing I remember was whispering over and over again that he left. Insurmountable pain kept building in my chest, shattering my heart into miniscule shards with rough jagged edges, the pieces grinding together, reverberating pain throughout my being. Each piece only accomplished a deeper fissure, a harsher tear in the fabric that I had once called a life. If I'd ever hit any sort of a rock bottom before this point, it was nothing, it was a joke compared to where I was now.

With every breath I breathed, every beat of my shattered heart, I was reminded of all that I lost because of one stupid misunderstanding. I say one because Edward and I would have been able to live through the photos had we not had the 'incident' looming over our heads. We could have conquered the world together had we just trusted each other enough to believe that we were it for the other; but I guess in the end, even love wasn't enough.

The first time we said those three ill-fated words to each other would forever be engrained in my memory and could easily be ranked as one of the top three best memories of all times. At that point we'd only been dating for about two weeks, but we'd spent every waking moment with each other, fallen asleep with one another on the phone, studied together… basically we were unseparatable.

_We were walking on the beach in my hometown, it was just after him meeting my father for the first time and the words just kind of slipped out. They rang so true and honest in the bitter, damp air that the breath got caught in my lungs and my feet froze on the chilled sand, forcing me to stay rooted in one spot. It was obvious they were accidental, and the words weren't really in conjunction, but he still said he loved me. _

_Edward stopped once he noticed I wasn't moving and turned toward me, his eyes worried, his face growing stoic. "What? What did I say?" he asked, running his fingers through his hair. I'd noticed it was a trait he used most when he became nervous. _

"_You said, you loved me," I answered in a soft whisper. Really what he said was, 'Yeah, Bella, sleeping with a nightlight at twenty four is silly, but I still love you.' It still meant the same thing, right? Or was I just over thinking it? Either way, the words were out there and now I couldn't take back my word vomit. I should have just kept my mouth shut and not said anything. A rational and smart person would have done that, but no, I was an idiot. _

_Our eyes met, and I could feel the intensity boil over in my veins. His eyes spoke love, but his rigid posture read to be uncertainty. Before I could question his actions any longer, he took the three steps to close our distance, cupped my cheek and leaned down until he was almost touching my lips. _

"_I did, because I do. I knew it the moment you said no." _

_I didn't have time to respond before his lips were on mine in one of the most amazing kisses I'd ever experienced. The love was divinely evident, and I soon became lost in the irrevocable feelings we were sharing. _

Back in reality, Lauren held me all night, both of us haphazardly positioned on the sofa; her obliterated out of her mind, per usual, and me screwed by life. We just lay there, clinging to each other, hoping for some semblance of life to fall upon us, only to find the other soul, and learn it was more broken than our own. At one point, I registered her shooting up again, and at another, I even recall her offering me a hit off of her needle, but the rest was just a dark haze of nothingness that I was sure I would forevermore call my life.

Sometime around the break of dawn, I was pulled from my daze by Lauren's cell going off. All time and reason were completely lost on me. I couldn't tell you the day, the hour, or even who our fucking president was, all I knew was my reason for existence had walked out that door and presumably was never coming back.

All the memories of the heartbreak from the night before rushed through my mind. The look of absence in his eyes as he moved to get into the taxi, the shrill screams emitted from me, begging him to come back, and the millions of camera flashes erupting around me, trying to get the newest celebrity sleaze they could—unfortunately it just so happened to be me. I'd never been one to feel sorry for Lindsay Lohan, or Britney Spears, feeling they asked for the attention, craved it, and went out of their ways in seek of it, but this was different. I was in my own home, minding my own business, trying to rectify whatever dysfunction was engulfing me. I wasn't running into a hair salon and shaving my head, I wasn't running down the street with no panties on and completely fucking high off my ass. Yet, somewhere along the line I fell victim to the gossip, to the scandal, to everything that was Hollywood.

Did I deserve it? I deserved worse. Did I want the attention? Not from them, only from the strong arms I called home. All this would accomplish would be to chase Edward even farther away. He was a doctor, he didn't need the unwarranted attention; the hospital would surely frown down upon the circus our lives had become. Then again, it would be earning them attention in conjunction, so who knew?

Conversation filled the room, but spilled into my ears as if I were hearing it through a piece of glass. The sounds ran and sputtered like running water, and crashed like falling waves in a tidal pool. Images around me were blurry and unhinged—each edge took on a different characteristic than what it was supposed to have. Everything looked soft and fuzzy, like a person with an astigmatism looking at the world for the first time without their glasses.

My throat was raspy and dry from a night of crying and screaming his name, begging him to return to me, pleading for him not to quit loving me because of my mistakes. Could he not see how much I loved him—how much my life revolved around him—how I was seriously addicted to him? He was like a drug to me—the sweetest of elixirs poured down upon my tongue by the gods in heaven themselves, and now, without the ambrosia I was falling into a rough fit of withdrawal. I needed him like an addict needed her fix, and I was falling fast.

"Baby, I'll take all your pain away," Lauren cooed. I knew what she was talking about, she'd offered me a hit of her heroin all night, proclaiming it would take the edge off and make me feel better. I had half the mind to take her up on her offer. Just as I was about to say yes, his face came into view—his beautiful, disgraced face. I knew how he saw drugs, and the addicts who indulged them. I watched how he took Lauren in at functions; he detested all parts of it—just as he detested me.

Did he notice how seriously fucked up over him I was? Could he see how much I needed him? Is that why he ran?

His pungent rebuttal of the idea only made me want to say yes even more. Why not? Why deny myself the little crumb of peace that was on offer? What was the point of being stuck in my misery with no chance of reprieve? If he was ashamed of me—if he wanted no part of me, at least I could ease the pain. At least I could give him a reason to be disgusted with me. At least, maybe, I could feel slightly normal for just a minute…just be rid of this pain for just a second.

I hadn't realized the point when I nodded my head, but I noticed the sharp jab that flew into to the flesh between my big toe and the one next to it. I screamed at the pain and jerked away but was held tightly by the ankle to halt any movement. The calming 'shhhing' noise that was coming from Lauren helped ease some of the sting as the warm liquid surged up through my foot. The burn spread with my blood up my leg, through the apex of my hip, through my stomach, and to my chest where it began radiating in route to my limbs.

The calming sensation only lasted a minute before the sweltering warmth filled where the icy warm drug had once been, and there he was. When I opened my eyes I saw him, I felt him holding my hand, I suffered the sensation of his tears falling to my face from his perch above me. He was so vivid. Everything about the scene in front of me made me believe I could reach out and touch him. His breath fanned my face, even his smell was dead on. The closer he came to me, the more I felt of him, his eyelashes brushing my cheeks, the wetness of his tears hitting my face and mixing with my own. I could feel him all around me. His presence surrounded me, engulfing me in ways I'd never experienced before.

Before that moment, I had never done anything harder than alcohol; even in school, I never attempted to get caught with the chill-dill, or any kind of narcotic substance. Before that moment, I had never seen the need to—but now, now, I couldn't wait until the next hit. This was my introduction into a world far darker than any I had ever experienced, far harsher than I had ever heard of, and scarier than I ever wish to tell of. That was my first introduction to the world of heroin, and everything that circumferenced it.

"What have you done?" he whispered to me, the look on his face one of complete disregard. The pain in his eyes was evident, the pain I use to see whenever I got hurt. Once upon a time, he would tell me if I was ever hurt, he could feel it. It was impossible not to wonder if this worked the same way. Could my vision of Edward feel what I was going through—feel the warmth and high radiating through my body, the embodied feeling captivating me and riveting me to a new extreme I had never known until this moment. It almost felt like adrenaline in the most sensual of ways.

"It's the only way you'll stay with me," I answered, my voice matching his in volume.

His hand reached out and rubbed my cheek, moving gently across my cheekbone, brushing some tear soaked hair from where it had molded its self to my face. I could feel his hand, warm and comforting as it enveloped my jaw in the comforting gesture I'd felt a million times before. Every fiber in my being wanted to believe he was truly there; my eyes were the evil culprit, which gave my body the ability to believe it. Nothing was reliable. My eyes fooled me, my body betrayed me, and my heart was currently killing me in slow degrees. Everything was lost, and there was nothing to be found.

"Love, I'll be with you always." Lies. Everything he spoke of was lies. He left, I watched him leave, I felt his absence after the taxi door closed, and I drowned in the cold, bitterness of the aftermath of his departure. Even my hallucinations were liars of the most evil realm.

"No, you left me. You left me here all alone." My voice was jagged with tears, hoarse with dry exertion.

And then he was gone. The image of my Edward was gone with the blink of an eye. What seemed to only be a minute with him had turned out to be an hour, and when my eyes were opened, l learned I truly was alone. At some point Lauren had let herself out, leaving me on the sofa to wake up in my own vomit and lying on a tear soaked cushion.

I had no hope but to draw some kind of strength from the words in my vision—Edward had to be with me, he said he would be always. Before I could talk myself out of it I placed Edward on redial. For the next three hours, he continuously ignored my calls. Voicemail after voicemail, text after blasted fucking text was sent, each leading me back to square one—nothing. Rose and Emmett called checking on me, trying to piece together what happened, subtly trying to figure out why they received a message saying the wedding was off.

Just like that—the wedding was off. He was done. He honestly was gone. He'd given up and called off our wedding.

He wasn't coming back.

My mind went completely blank. My heart stuttered and stopped for a minute in my chest. My walls caved in on themselves. My body purged all its toxins. My will relented and quit. His message rang through, loud and clear. According to them, he was holed up in some run down hotel on the edge of town, trying to escape the media that was surrounding my digressions. He hadn't called them or spoken to anyone since two days ago, his only contact with the outside world, to our knowledge, was a call to the hospital requesting a leave of absence, stating a family emergency and the text message to Emmett, telling him to call me, to make sure I was okay.

Even after I broke his heart and tore our lives to shreds he was thinking of me, taking care of me, but none of those reassurances reneged the fact that he was gone and wasn't coming back. Singlehandedly, he canceled our lives and left me on standby.

If I could tell you that was the worst part of everything that had happened up to this point, I'd be lying. The worst part was when I came to the realization that I couldn't blame him—I could only blame myself. Did I want to blame him? Maybe, somewhere in my subconscious, though I couldn't find the energy. Instead, I grabbed this bull by the horns and looked it in the eyes, my world falling apart was my fault, and I didn't know what to do to make it any better. We were affected by _my_ decisions, _my_ actions had brought our lives to a standstill, _my_ carelessness brought us to our knees in distress. I could find no fault bar my own.

The next block of time I remembered was when I placed a call to Lauren, doing anything I could to get in contact with her. I needed her help so I could see him again. My feet carried me up the stairs, searching each and every medicine cabinet Edward kept, threw each bottle that held nothing but antibiotics, or antacids to the floor in search of something that could numb me into some sort of oblivion. There was no room to be greedy; I would accept anything and everything. I think if someone were to offer me a pistol and explain there would be no more pain, I would take it…happily. Hell, I'd probably load it, stuff it in my mouth, and grin while I bore it. When anyone explained rock bottom, I don't think they had been here. I was now officially at subfloor number five hundred and fifty two and quickly descending to the fiery pits of Hell.

When none of that worked, I hit the high road, and by that, I mean Sunset Boulevard. The words from the beginning of Pretty Woman rang through my ears as I floored my Audi R8 down the street at the highest speed I dared in my current state. "Welcome to Hollywood, where all dreams come true." The irony wasn't lost on me. All of my dreams did come true here—even my worst ones — especially my worst ones. I found fame and fortune in an unforgiving world of beauty. I slept in fields of love and wild flowers with a Prince Charming even Disney would fall in love with, and in two seconds, the darkness seeped in and ripped it all away.

Like a mad person, I twisted my car into an ally way I had seen Lauren enter numerous times, pulled over, and got out. I knew I looked like a skank, wearing my highest three-inch heels, the shortest mini skirt I could find, and the lowest halter-top I owned. It didn't matter what I looked like, it didn't even faze me that I could probably be picked up, mistaken for a hooker. I was here for one thing, and I didn't care what I had to do to get it.

One lesson was learned in that ally way, desperation doesn't suit me. Every man within a three block radius noticed my long naked legs as I stretched out of my overly expensive car, every pimp was eyeing me, waiting for me to tell them who I worked for, and every dealer was looking at my car, thinking I had money. I didn't. He had it all, and I wanted none of it. Like I said, desperation doesn't suit me.

The first man to approach me offered me a job, but I kept walking. If they couldn't fork over what I wanted, they were of no use to me. If he had offered me money to take me back into oblivion, I would have done anything—but he didn't. He simply asked me if I were interested in the career of a lifetime. I wasn't interested in a life time, I didn't even want to live, I only wanted my next fix.

By the third man, I was in business. He looked at me skeptically when I asked him if he had heroin, his eyes appraising me, probably wondering if I were a cop. A quick flash of the tracks between my toes and my lack of knowledge regarding quantities and quality must have proved otherwise because he was quickly looking to make me a deal. Tears streamed down my face when I explained that I didn't have the hundred dollars for the small vial he was looking to offer. Desperately, I fell to my knees, clutching the front of his pants offering whatever services he wanted in order to take me to another world—a happier world, one where I could exist with Edward, because of Edward.

Though I never thought it possible, I died a little more inside when he lead me to a secluded portion of the ally way, leading me through a small door and to a room with a soiled mattress on the concrete floor. Directions weren't needed, I was fully prepared to do whatever needed to be done, including selling my soul to the devil. Clothes were ripped, my body was bruised, hair ripped and pulled from my body, screamed dispensed, and pain consumed.

With each thrust of hips, every harsh grab, and moan that came from above me, a little piece of my self fell farther away. The tears were relentless, the longing growing, and the pain — indescribable. I was trashing the body that was _his_ temple—the body that only he had touched—the body that was only for him to touch, and I was desecrating it. I withdrew into myself to relive a memory of a more pleasant time.

"_Bella, where are you?" Edward called up the stairs. I knew he'd had a hard day at school today, but I had something I wanted to share with him. We'd been together for just over a month, we'd done everything but consummate our relationship. What was the hold up? I mean my boyfriend (sigh, I still had a rush saying that word when it was associated with Edward) was the epitome of some god-like-legend. He was perfect in nearly every way. He was beautiful, smart, witty, sweet, loving, patient…God I could go on, but right at this moment he was seriously two feet in front of my door._

"_Bella, come on, we're going to be late for our reservations, what's taking so long?" he asked through the door, a light knock following._

"_I, uh, called and canceled our reservations, I figured we could eat in tonight," I offered. "Hey, Edward, can you come help me with something?" Where I got the nerve, I'm still not sure. I was lying in the middle of my bed with a tray of fruit at the nightstand, a corset with garters, matching seamed stockings, and a pair of three-inch heels to boot, waiting for him to enter. _

_I looked up just in time to hear the breath catch in Edward's throat as he took me in. His eyes raked up my body, bugged when he noticed the scanty panties I purchased just after he said he like them. Everything about him was drawing me in, and I was left hoping I was doing the same thing. _

"_Are you sure about this?" he stuttered and stammered slightly, his hands wringing in front of him, his eyes never leaving my gently pushed up chest. I could tell he was nervous. Not nervous in the sense that he didn't want this, but maybe a little taken back by what this would entail. He knew I was a virgin, I'd told him from the beginning I was holding out for 'the one.' I'd also, not so hesitantly, blurted out that he was the one on our third date…mind you, I was drunk, but his expression told me he hadn't been expecting this to come for a while… maybe our wedding night? _

"_I wouldn't be set up here like a buffet if I weren't," I answered heady. I had never wanted anything more than I wanted this. I never thought I wanted this until I met Edward. Don't get me wrong, what girl doesn't want a hot guy to sex her up and give her the orgasms of her dreams, but at twenty three the idea of sticking something the size of Edward into the size of me was a little intimidating. Plus, me, being the little study worm I am, decided to research before the big debut… big fucking mistake. Story after story online told me of how the first time wouldn't offer much pleasure, and explained how pain was almost always expected. Great, I wait for the man I love, give him the greatest gift I possibly can, and all I get in return is pain? Somewhere we girls seriously get jipped, I mean guys get off on this shit, they don't have to worry about pregnancy, and us girls, yeah we totally get the raw end of the deal. _

_But he was worth it. He was worth everything. _

_Edward's hands were soft and calm as they brushed over my body, gently feeling the material of the corset that was covering my ribs while his lips, rough like burning embers of desire, pressed against my lips. _

"_You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. God, I love you, so much." The thick and husky nature to his voice made me moan with desire. My hands fisted in his hair, bringing his lips back to mine as they searched for attention. Our tongues met with the usual sensual spark that ignited something deep in the pit of my stomach, and scorched its sweet flame through my heart. I'd never wanted a man as much as I did now. _

"_I love you, too," I whispered in response between breaths. All the truths I ever held were released in those four words. You are my life now, you are my eternity, I will give up everything for you, I will die for you, and I will love you for the rest of my life. You are my everything. _

_And I will never regret what happens next for as long as I shall live._

I wish I could tell you every sensual noise we made, and describe each longing touch, but it's something that a man and a woman share when they love each other, and love each other we did. That night was simply the best night of my life. Feelings were put into actions, actions put into love, and love put into belonging. In one simple act, Edward and I had solidified everything we could have ever hoped to tell the other. His fingers running through my hair was a silent promise to cherish me, my hands running down his torso, my vow to honor him, every touch had a meaning that was deeper than either of us could have understood, but we held onto them regardless.

Love is funny like that, every little thing means the world, but the bigger gestures often go over looked. His touch told me of his love, not his words. The corporeal feelings he was giving my body gave me more than any three words could. Anyone can tell each other they love the other, but touches like these… they were the real deal—they solidified forever for me, and held onto my future.

Every sweet touch from that night, every gentle caress, and warm embrace we shared was being canceled out by these harsh and hateful mitts of a man I didn't even know, all for a score I didn't know for sure if I wanted. I wanted to see Edward again, but was I really willing to go through this to get it? The answer was simple—too simple. Yes. I would do anything to see him again—anything to feel him again. This included:

Hello, I'm Isabella, the whore and addict, Swan and I am silently, slowly, killing myself. Is there anyone who can help me?

**AN:** Please review...they are what keep me going in the writing world!


	4. Disgusted

Gee—chick, you are amazing. I don't think I tell you that enough. Your ideas and reworks are…I don't have words.

VPJ…or whatever your name is now…sparklepeen?... I love you. Thank you for helping me make this story what it is.

Disclaimer: SM owns characters. Angelnlove52 owns plot. ©angelnlove52 2010.

This chapter is dedicated to my friend, Kneon.

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Chapter Four: Disgust  
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The sun shone brightly through the open curtains, dousing me in blinding light, causing me to blink several times and place a cold-as-stone hand over my sensitive eyes. Upon first thought, the sun felt new, fresh, alien, as if I hadn't truly felt it in a while, but I brushed that aside for sleeper's haze. It was my blonde moment of sorts. The same sun rose through the same… not the same window as yesterday. I pushed myself up onto my elbows to gather the sights around me. The window treatments were foreign, the bed hard and lumpy under my naked body, and the walls stained with water residue and caked with dirt. Another quick look around affirmed I was in a hotel room. How I got here, why I was here, and which hotel I was in was unrecognizable at this point, but I was sure it wasn't the five-star I was accustomed to. The last thing I remembered was the alley.

My breath caught, my heart slowed, and my blood ran cold at the memory of the alley, of some stranger's hands on my body. Those memories seeped into my soul and ate at me alive. I felt like a dirty piece of flesh decaying in a pool of maggots as they hungrily munched on their meal, awaiting their next stage of life. Quickly, I pulled the blanket away and looked down at myself, assessing the damage, the thoughts eerily created false bug feelings as my limbs tingled with raw sensations. The bruises around my breasts and lining my hips made me gasp, but not as much as the long dark markings that ran down my rib cage. I watched in fascinated revulsion as my fingers gingerly traced over the veins, the skin around them clouded with a sickly ash grey. Everything about it screamed wrong, but it also felt right. I felt absolution at the sight, though I couldn't fathom why. The stark blue lines reminded me of a twisting river with several heads, but one embankment, one feeder to the many offshoots. It seemed one river could feed the multitudes, I just hadn't realized that's exactly what had happened. Absently, my fingers trailed the line on my body, raising a million questions in my mind. Did I get a tattoo? Why were there track marks running down my body? What have I done to myself? When realization hit I gasped.

"Morning beautiful," a deep voice greeted upon entering the room, causing my heart to skip a beat. It was rich and gritty; the sound instantly reminded me of the vocal tunings of Scott Stapp or Chris Daughtry. The ruggedness sounded purely of man and wanton sex. Huskiness seeped through and made me want to cringe as I instantly thought of Edward's sex voice, the voice he used when I got him to the breaking point just before he threw me on the bed and ravaged me.

I looked up to him and acknowledged the fact he wasn't Edward, but the man from the alley. His long blonde hair hung down behind him, tied back in a pony tale at the nape of his skull; his ice blue eyes peered into me as if he were trying to steal my soul. Those eyes reminded me of Damon's eyes—the son of the devil. The chilling ice blue that seeks only the pure hearted to drag them through the seven realms of hell. They were beyond frightening, and the clairvoyance of them only added to the chilliness. Naturally, I sized him up and calculated his build, he was muscular, his jaw angular with hard lines around his eyes, indicating he was a smoker and liked to squint frequently—possibly placing him out in the sun a lot. His skin was dark from the sun, and a tattoo ran down his neck and ended at his wrist. My eyes traveled the webs of lines that were visible, not understanding their mix and mingling with his skin. They made me think of imprisonment, being locked behind thick bars of sinew and raw forces out of my control, possibly even slavery.

I blinked a few times trying to grasp my bearings.

"Where are we?" My voice was thick with sleep and raspy with thirst. I felt like I hadn't drank anything in about a month, leaving me as dry as a seven year draught. I didn't really care where we were, I didn't care what had happened to me, it really didn't even matter what was going to happen, I just wanted to know for simplicity standards.

"We are at the Blue Banana." His answer was short and rather sarcastic as if I should know this. My eyebrow cocked at the conundrum around me. On my way to Sunset Strip I remember thinking of Pretty Woman, now I was living the story.

The man in front of me seemed to get my gesture as he looked down at the floor then back at me. "Mom was obsessed with Julia Roberts while I was growing up. At one point I named it that to honor her, now it's just a pile of shit and a run down roach farm just like she is. Life's a kicker Ay?" he informed, not that I truly cared where he came up with the name in the first place, just that I was there.

I didn't feel the question was to be answered so I asked my own. "How long was I asleep?" Modesty never came, I never raised the sheets to cover my exposed chest, I never cowered from his eyes fucking me, or how his tongue continuously darted out to wet his lips as if he were looking at a tempting piece of meat. His eyes were trained solely on the two pink pebbles of flesh that peeked at the tips of my breasts. The motions made me want to hurl myself out the window, but not because I was uncomfortable.

Who would have ever thought that shy, innocent Bella would one day be comfortable with a strange man looking at her while she laid naked in a bed? He must be a demon coming to save me from the apocalypse. Even Edward wished I wouldn't shy when he openly gawked at my naked form. Oddly enough, I guess he got his wish—I was no longer self-conscious it seemed.

"Off and on." I balked at his evasiveness. He took several steps toward the bed before I had enough sense to ask another question, hoping to make him stop where he was. Petulant thoughts were not a tactic to be used lightly.

"How long have we been here?" His eyes crinkled, presumably sizing me up, trying to tell if I was joking or serious.

"About a week," he chuckled. My eyes flew to the clock then back up to the man inhabiting the room. "You were unconscious for most of it, but I'd like to think you remembered our time together. It was very…hmm what's the word for it…voyeuristic? Exciting, thrilling, new, experimental?"

"What are you talking about?" My agent would have my head if she saw me squint my eyes at this mystery man as I questioned him.

"You really don't remember do you? What a shame, it was one for the books doll."

I looked down at myself and cataloged my dirty flesh, the filth beneath my fingernails, the rope burns around my wrists, even the bite marks on my hands and juncture point between my shoulder and neck (I couldn't see it, but it didn't mean I couldn't feel the residue). The bile rose on its own accord at each and every mark on my once flawless flesh. Immediately, I was on my feet running to the bathroom to empty whatever contents were in my stomach, which not surprisingly, wasn't much. Most of my vomiting only produced stomach acid, and oddly some small traces of blood.

Once I was finished and actually looked up at myself in the mirror I froze. The woman in the reflection was unrecognizable, this could not be what I looked like after just a week, could it? I found myself lightly stroking my face trying to decipher who was looking back at me, trying to figure out if this was truly a joke or not. My once shiny and perfectly treated hair was grimy and oily from lack of washing, my once vibrant eyes were blood shot and lifeless, the circles under my eyes made me look deathly ill, and my face was marred with dirt and what appeared to be a bruise on my right cheek. Upon further examination, my cheeks were sunken in making me look malnourished; my skin lacked any sort of luster and looked like I needed a chemical peel. Disgusting didn't cover how I looked, or how I felt. I had to get out of here. I had to get home. I had to try to figure this all out and find a way to get Edward back…if he'd even have me back.

"You okay in there?" the man asked as he lightly knocked on the door, effectively drawing the attention away from myself. My hands remained on my face, lightly fingering the bones that protruded through the tightened skin at the apples of my cheeks.

With one last look at myself I turned toward the door and opened it, finding myself face to face with….

"What's your name?" I asked, my tone quiet, withheld. His stare was incredulous to say the least. The look in his eyes made me feel like he was talking to a five year old about an algebraic equation. For the first time in years I felt idiotically indignant, sophomoric, and utterly stupid. All my years with Edward had left me well versed in many topics, and my studies always proved me to be rather intellectual, stupid wasn't a card I was used to being dealt.

"James," he answered simply. "Isabella we made all of these introductions after… you don't remember any of it do you?" His face fell, leaving me a feeling of loss. I'd disappointed yet another man in my life, regardless of what his role was.

My exhale was loud and rugged in my attempt to swallow my own feelings of self-disappointment. I looked back up into James' eyes and attempted to regain composure. A batch of Rosalie's words of wisdom came to mind at that moment. Men can sense fear and typically take advantage of it.

And fearful I was because I was in a hotel room alone, naked, with a man I didn't know—a man that wasn't mine, a man I didn't belong with.

"Can you take me to my car?"

"It's downstairs, that's how we got here doll." I cringed at the idea of someone else driving my baby. I was the farthest thing from a car person, but when I saw Abby, my car, I almost had a cargasm. She was sleek and sexy, and caused my blood to boil with unadulterated lust. Edward bought her for me just because he liked the way my eyes lit up when I looked at her. We christened her three times the second we parked her in the garage, and several times since then. Abby was our car, our solitude, our experience.

"We didn't have sex in the car did we?"

"Not in the car no, but the hood was broken in." I cringed. "Don't worry doll, nothing's broken, I took it easy on you that time."

I looked away trying to find my clothes so I could leave. Oddly enough, I found them draped over the curtain rods, how I missed them during my glaring contest with the window when I first woke up, I don't know.

"I've got to go," I resigned in a hushed whisper.

"You still owe me a round, even agreed we could try it up the ass." Unnervingly, I took a step back from his outstretched hand.

"Owe you a round for what?" My mind was blank with what the possibilities were before I caught up. I didn't bring my purse with me when I left the house—I hadn't had money to offer him for the heroin—I offered my soul to the devil.

"The H of course." The answer was simple and drawn out between a scoff. His forehead crinkled in question, silently asking me how I couldn't remember. Maybe I blocked it out so I wouldn't remember I was fornicating with a man that wasn't my Edward. Possibly I was so fucked up that my brain just kicked the memories out.

"I'll get you some cash if you follow me home," I offered, disgusted at the idea of having this man anywhere near me.

"Isabella, that wasn't the agreement we had. Now get on the bed." Finality was clearly evident in his voice and I was terrified to cross him. Somewhere a voice was screaming at me to run, to cower, to cry, to do anything but I was too far gone to truly care. I had obviously already abased myself with this man, so why not just give him what he wanted and be done with it. What was a little more abuse to myself when I had already lost myself completely?

I turned toward the bed and the angry voice in my ears caused me to stop in my tracks.

"Bella, don't do this, get out of here." The pure velvet of _his_ voice unnerved me, almost brought me to my knees with heart fail. I closed my eyes at the idea of him witnessing my actions over the past week only to realize that he wouldn't care what I did. He was gone and he wasn't coming back.

That thought did bring me to my knees. I dropped like the whore I was and prepared for whatever was ready to be given to me. His voice kept flooding my ears, begging me to leave, pleading for me to get up, and bribing me with new jewelry, or an extended vacation away from Hellywood. None of it mattered because I knew he wasn't coming back. Self-preservation went out the window as I felt James get down behind me and prep me for what I could only assume to be the hundredth time in the past week we'd had sex.

I wasn't interested, I wasn't lustful, I wasn't desiring anything to do with this man but I needed something to make the pain stop, and obviously this had worked for the past unknown amount of time being as I hadn't remembered breaking down or thinking about Edward since the day he left.

Ironically, pain was all I felt as he pushed himself into me unrelenting. My muscles gripped against the intrusion and I screamed as my arms gave out. James chuckled only to withdraw and do it again. The tears streamed relentlessly when he grabbed me by my hair and pulled me toward his body, yanking the upper half of my torso off the ground.

My mind defended itself the only way it knew how and shut down, taking me to a meadow I hadn't been to since I moved to LA.

_Edward and I were together, lying on a blanket looking up at the clouds, attempting to identify the creatures that lived within them. Some couples had the stars, others claimed the moon, but Edward and I had the clouds. We'd previously discussed us moving to LA to follow my career, but his residency was here, our lives were here and I wasn't about to turn that down. Modeling was only a means to money, a means to rent. It had never been my dream, writing, becoming an English professor; those were things I strived for. I'd only entered the modeling field to accompany Rose, leaving English to the better suited, and more able minded. _

_Edward's voice was tender as he turned and took me into his arms, still gazing up into the rare blue sky, "Do you see that one right there, it looks like a heart," he whispered, his hand out stretched, pointing me in the correct direction for his new discovery. _

_Following his lead, I looked but didn't find anything of the sort. _

"_Are you losing your mind boyfriend dear, there is no such heart in the sky," I laughed, turning toward him. His eyes were now locked with mine and a small smile was on his face. _

"_That's because you have it. You carry it with you everywhere you go. Bella, you are my heart and my soul," he answered, ever so softly brushing the hair away from my face and cupping my cheek in his hand. "Marry me?" His eyes were so determined, his voice sure and honest with longing, and his smile breathtaking. "Isabella Marie Swan, please say you'll marry me and make me the happiest man in the world." _

_My eyes pricked with tears, my mouth formed a face-cracking smile, and I nodded enthusiastically not being able to find my voice. As quickly as I could, my lips were pressed upon his, sealing my definite yes into the books of forever. _

"_Am I to guess that was a yes?" he asked in a chuckle. _

_Once again words failed me so I nodded again. _

To this day I don't think I ever told him yes, only showed him with whatever actions I could, and every time he'd bring that fact up, I'd always remind him that actions spoke louder than words, each time earning me a sweet and searing kiss in the remembrance of what was true.

After what seemed like hours, James finished and pushed me away from his body. I didn't bother cleaning myself up, didn't even think twice of my actions before I lunged across the room, grabbed my clothes and quickly got dressed.

"Baby, when you need your next fix, give me a call will ya?" He handed me a business card. "Or you could always stop by, I own this joint so I'll always be here."

The sad reality was that I knew I'd call him. I knew I'd be looking for my next hit wanting the coma inducing drug to be pulsating through my system in a means to forget all that I had lost. I took the card without looking back and ran barefoot down to the small parking lot that kept my car. Without looking back I pushed my key into the ignition and took off down the streets, trying to figure out where the hell I was so I could go home. Except, home was the last place I wanted to go. Home was empty memories and heartless words, — a cold reminder of how happy we used to be.

After about an hour and at least a bucket full of tears, I recognized a cross street and swerved to take it, barely missing the car I cut off to catch my exit. I didn't care, if I was hit, maybe I'd end up in the hospital, maybe it would bring him back to me—even if just for a moment. The sadistic part of my brain romanticized the idea of being hurt or almost killed, showing Edward how much I truly needed him, how addicted to him I had become over the years. Maybe if he just saw how low I was without him he would come back to me.

Before I could drive my car into a light pole going a hundred miles an hour, the rational part of my brain spoke up telling me that I didn't want Edward to stay with me out of obligation, I didn't want to live like I had the last weeks of our relationship all over again. But maybe he could learn to love me again, — just maybe he could see how relentless my love for him is and he would realize that I was it for him.

My medaling mind worked like this, back and forth all the way back to our home—that's not true, back to our _house_. For it to be deemed a _home_, he needed to be there, love needed to be present. None of which was the case anymore. A few lagging reporters were waiting for me on the lawn, probably awaiting their newest story, or the most privy of gossip. I would have figured they had moved on by now, but obviously someone had to follow the lag stories of the Hollywood models that fall from grace.

I kept my hands up to cover my face but the bruises and dirt were still visible, telling their stories of my misguided adventures. At least the track marks were hidden under my scandalous shirt—that was a story I didn't want anyone to know about. Bruises could come from anywhere, a fall, an accident, a tryst. There were no standards or expectations, but marks that were obviously from some form of an illegal encounter…those were newsworthy.

Even in bare feet I stumbled, tripped, and staggered my way to the front door—why Edward demanded we have two sets of keys was beyond me, but I'd obviously forgotten to grab the garage set before I left the house. What an idiot. The hollered questions didn't make me stop, most of them were blocked out by the others but one question rang through clear over the others, "Bella, where have you been for the past five days?" _Good question detective. If I knew, I still wouldn't tell you._ I entered my house not muttering a single word or confirmation to the meddlers.

Once the front door was closed and locked, I aligned my back to the hard wood and slid down to the floor, drawing my knees up to my chest. The silence seemed to echo all around me, reminding me I was alone. The only sound was the soft hum of the answering machine reminding me of a message it held, stupid machine. Edward had it installed in case he missed a call from the hospital, it had been set up to remind us every fifteen minutes there was an unheard message on it so he would be made aware of them the moment we got home. The thing wasn't truly offensive any other day because obviously, we'd listen as soon as we heard the all too familiar hum, but right now, sitting here in my solace, the noise was deafening. Yes, truly deafening. It was all I could hear, it over shadowed the water dripping from the loose faucet in the kitchen, the running toilet up on the second floor that Edward promised he would fix two weeks ago, and most importantly the voices of the people waiting for my breakdown outside.

My defenses arose when the shrill ringing of the phone broke through the maddening sound of the cursed machine. I didn't possess the energy to get up to answer it, nor did I care who was on the other end. I knew he wouldn't be calling.

"Isabella, I know you're home! I just received a text from TMZ saying you were walking through your door fifteen minutes ago! Where have you been! Answer the G D phone damnit!" Rose's shrill voice shrieked at me through the offensive before mentioned piece of crap that I was going to destroy the minute I got the energy to do so.

"Edward's been calling you, calling us, panicked because you haven't been home in a week. He's freaking out, calling all of the morgues and hospitals. He's been talking to Emmett about filing a Missing Persons and reporting your car stolen just so he can find out what's going on. He even called the credit card people and said your cards haven't been used. Seriously, WTF chick?

"I think the fear started with Laruen, she said something to him at the hospital fundraiser three days ago about you falling into the wrong crowd or some bullshit. I don't know, her words were slurred and she wasn't making much sense. I know things are hard right now but there are people out here that love you, let us be here for you through this. Even though Emmett is Edward's brother, we're here for you okay? Call me."

Even if this were true, which it proved to be false as of late, where was she when Edward bolted? Why wasn't she here to help me pick up my pieces? Mentally, I ran through all the instances when I needed her as of late and she had been absent, tending to Emmett, or off doing something with one of her other friends. Was I that forgettable?

The resounding click and a loud beep told me she hung up. Edward's been calling me. Those words brought me through my haze only to cause me to crash again when I looked down and saw the disgrace that I was. He wouldn't want me now. I'd ruined everything truly sacred about me—everything that was his I'd thrown away. I was nothing now other than a dirty pile of filth and I didn't know what more could be done with it.

Question upon question continued to run through my mind. I wanted beyond anything to run to the phone and listen to whatever answers Edward had left. The only thing keeping me rooted to the floor was the pure fear of falling farther into the oblivion. I wanted to hear his voice; I wanted to listen to the sweet velvet that soothed all my fears every time he spoke, but reality is a bitch. What if the message was just him reiterating that he wanted to call the wedding off? There would be no way I could cope with that. I'd be better off to wait for him to come and tell me in person. If he still loved me—which I was sure he did—he wouldn't be able to call off the wedding while looking at me and seeing how utterly devastated I am. A part of me knew that if Edward were to see me broken down like this he wouldn't want to leave me, the doctor part of him would kick in and he'd take care of me. The real question is, do I want that? Do I want him to be with me for the soul reason of me being a mess? I want him to be with me because he loves me, not because he feels obligated to.

Each feeling, all thoughts tearing at me, ripping any resolve I had to shreds. I felt like I was quartered in the town square while being tied to four horses, each one pulling a different limb until I was surely to tear. If I thought I'd met my breaking point before I was wrong. This was it. This was my six feet under because with every thought that was trespassing through my mind, my blood was cursed with thoughts of suicide, thoughts of ending it all just to get away and never feel this sort of pain again. I was ready for it to be over—all the torment, the pain, everything; I wanted it done.

Thoughts of how to accomplish such a feat trailed through me. I remembered searching for pills the day after my world ended and coming up with nothing. If I were to go to the store and buy a large amount of anything the media would know and so would my family—completely defeating the point. I was utterly terrified of affixation so the thoughts of hanging were obliterated. The smell of blood nauseated me and made me pass out so I wouldn't even be able to slice my wrists properly. At that moment, I felt like Michael Meyers in those stupid Halloween movies. I was the villain who couldn't be killed.

Resigned in the fact that I would simply have to wallow I leaned forward more and felt my breast get pricked by something in my bra. A slow smile spread on my lips as I remembered receiving the card earlier. The words "Call when you're ready for another good time" were written in messy scrawl across the back. I flipped it over and saw his full name and a ten-digit number. I would be out of it soon, and nothing would be able to stop me.

With all the energy I had in me I crawled to the phone base on the entry table, pulled myself up by the edge, and dialed the offensive number on the card. The ring back tone was something about beating bitches and smoking a blunt—nothing I'd heard before, but yet it sounded almost familiar. The memory of the song was a haze. I remembered hearing it blasted through car speakers as I drove passenger side down the freeway, my hair blowing out the window. I was laughing insanely, reacting to the high I was educed under.

"Well hello beautiful. I see it didn't take you too long to realize how much you needed me huh?" His voice was sickly sweet and made me want to hurl something. Just the offensiveness of the bitter-sweetness made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and my skin to pimple with indescribable fear.

"How'd you know it was me?" I asked, even in my own ears I sounded dead. James didn't seem to notice.

"I watched you walk into your house twenty minutes ago. I was estimating thirty, but obviously you need me more than I thought. Do you want to meet or do you want me to come over."

A chill shot down my spine when he admitted he had watched me. Was he following me now? Did he have someone staking out my house? Was I in danger? Not that it mattered, I wanted to die anyways; he would just make it that much easier on me.

"No, I didn't follow you. You're house is all over the internet. I'm currently watching it on Google Earth, but of course TMZ and Perez Hilton are all blogging about you coming home. I'll call you when I'm about a block away, open your garage so I can just pull in and I'll dart inside. No one will know the difference." The only issue with his plan was if he was watching my house on the internet then there was always the possibility of someone else watching too and I couldn't afford Edward to discover my newest sickness yet.

Even after only being on heroin for a week I knew I was suffering from an illness. I knew I was addicted. Maybe not to the drug itself but to the euphoria of not being broken, to the lack of pain that was seeping into my consciousness while being affected. I was addicted to seeing Edward in my drug induced haze.

I knew I had to romance my tactics so he would cooperate otherwise we were both in for a rough ride. "Park a block away and come in through the back door. I don't want anyone to see you. If someone recognizes you we both go down, and my father is a cop, it won't go well for you." It was true. Although, my father would ultimately blame me for my decisions, James would not be seen as an innocent party and he would make sure that he was taken through the muck just for getting me hooked on such activities. If that wasn't enough I knew Emmett would not cater to the idea of James only going down for the minimum punishment, and he had quite a lot of pull down at the precincts.

"Oooh, a cop's daughter, even more fun," James insisted.

"Not just a cop, Chief of Police." It didn't matter where, just that he was. I figured the warning also stood grounds for if he planned anything funny or wanted to hurt me at any given time. At least this way I was covered slightly.

"Fine, I'll come in the back. But you better be ready for me. Go clean up, and be on your knees waiting I want you to suck me off before I give you any kind of relief." I heard the all too familiar click as James hung up, not giving me the option to disagree with his demands. Not that I really had room to, but it wasn't my idea of a good time. I had money at the house, I had valuables I could offer as payment, I guess not all hell goers arrive at the fiery gates on happy accords huh?

I am Isabella Swan, and I am case and point.

AN: Reviews will get a huge kiss from Rob when I find him.


	5. Disgusted Disgraced

Disclaimer:: SM owns Twilight, Angelnlove52 owns SN2O. Enough said.

The people in this chapter are true people. If you are in LA and looking for a photographer, Jae Feinberg is a fine choice. Her makeup artist, Dani Davis, is stationed out of Scottsdale, but does a lot of work in the greater LA area. In previous chapters Chris Evan was mentioned, he is an excellent photographer out of LA as well, but he tends to travel a little more than the others (plus he is a great personal friend of mine, so if you call him, make sure to tell him Danielle from his home town says 'holla'!). OH and if you want to find these photographers go to their websites jaefeinberg(dot)com _**and**_ chrisevan(dot)com. (Ekkks! But then you may find pix of me on there…)

Thanks to all the usual suspects! Gee, Kneon, VPJ. Ya'll rock my world.

Some one PM'd me regarding recc's….check my favs. When I find a story I can't live without I add it there. I maintain it regularly-in fact i just added about five new fav's this week!

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_Chapter Five: Disgusted-Disgrace _  
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After speaking with James, time moved in measures of insurmountable time. Moments fled, memories faded, and reality blurred. When I finally got around to listening to the messages left from Edward, his frantic voice shattered me into oblivion. Each stuttered word, every broken breath where it sounded like he was holding back tears, consumed whatever was left of me and broke it. The only thing I could truly compute was that I had caused his suffering—it was my fault he was so devastated. I had been the one to break what we had.

The first night James came over, it was much of the same-rough sex, left behind bruises, visions of Edward being the one beside me instead of the asshole I'd come to know. The emptiness filled every crevice of my body, all emotions locked in some vault of no return, and I was left feeling nothing. The needle didn't hurt when it entered my skin and punctured the vein, the powdery mixture snorted up my nose didn't burn as it passed through my septum. Nothing held any meaning or reason anymore. My body had quickly become a big blob of goo that didn't matter anymore.

In the nothingness, it didn't matter if I lived or died, and what was worse was that no one else did either. It didn't matter to me if my actions were hurting those around me. I didn't care that my mother had gotten wind of all of my shit hitting the fan and had called me five times in a matter of one evening not to mention she was threatening to come to LA to pull me out of my funk, _or_ that my father informed me he already purchased tickets. Somewhere, deep in the heart of it, I think I wished they could come and see what their daughter had been reduced to—see what I had done. Maybe a part of me wanted help, but just didn't know how to reach out for it at that point. Other parts of me wondered how much further I could fall before I hit the bottom, though I'm not sure how much farther I could have gone.

I sat in a miasma of blurred edges, rainbow lights, and dulled corners, just watching the answering machine light blink proving to me there was still one message waiting for me. Other than the last message from Rose, I knew there was one on there from him—I just wasn't brave enough to listen to it. I was already too wrecked.

"If he left, it means he doesn't want you anymore," James muttered, kissing my naked shoulder. I traced the rim of my glass and sat in silence. His comment didn't deserve a rebuttal. I knew Edward didn't want me anymore, but that didn't mean I wanted to hear it. It wasn't like hearing it would make it any less true, or sink in any farther than it already had. I knew without a shadow of a doubt he wasn't coming back and there was nothing I could do to change it.

In a few moments of silence, I watched the floaties in my water and almost reached at the idea that there were white pieces of matter in our public tap water. No wonder people had given up tap for bottled. Then again, I was high as a fucking kite, I'm sure I would have been seeing the iridescent specks, regardless of what I was drinking. Just to prove my point, I looked up at the ceiling and saw the same glowing dots speckled amongst the flat surface.

"Why don't you come back to bed?" he asked, his fingers trailing down my arms, raising goose bumps as they traveled the expanse of skin. I found it odd that he could be so loving and gentle now, but other times he was so harsh and rough. Could it be that he enticed all the girls in with his loving demeanor, only to flip the proverbial switch the moment he received what he wanted? "I'll help you forget whoever you're waiting for to call."

I shook my head, not liking the weird swishy swashy feeling it gave me. Note to self: don't shake head while stoned out of your mind on opiates. "He won't call again," I whispered. The truth rushed out of my lips with no filter. Speaking the truth was harder than hearing it and just the thought alone made me want to shrivel up and die. I hadn't expected my throat to be that raw when I spoke. I guess snorting a few Percocets laced with some Xanax was a bad idea.

"I know, that's what I've been trying to tell you. Why are you wasting your time sitting here, when we could be in bed having more fun?"

My gaze never left the phone, as if I were begging it to ring or _do_ something—grow wings and fly away—anything! I just needed to hear his voice, hear him while he spoke to me. But then it occurred to me that if I heard his voice, I'd hear first hand how truly broken he may be… or then again, how perfectly whole he should be. After all, he's the one who left me. He's the one who didn't want me anymore. He should be fine, especially since this is what he wanted. "I think you should leave," I answered.

"Bella—"

"Don't call me that. I'm not beautiful. I don't deserve that name anymore," I snapped. My vision began to turn black around the edges from staring at one spot for too long, but I didn't care, the darkness held some brand of comfort. I wanted the darkness; it meant I couldn't feel anymore. There was no Edward in the darkness, no heartache, no loss, no nothing. When I was in the Cimmerian, I was exactly where I wanted to be.

The last thing that fully registered was James' sneer and his hot, cigarette laced breath caressing my ear. "I'll be around when you need me, you useless fuck. We'll see how much longer you can get away with just using me. Things don't end pretty for the whores." I was too fucked up to truly comprehend or heed his words, and truthfully, at that point, they didn't matter. Foreshadowing was completely lost on me, which was odd considering writing was my passion and I'd always considered myself a literary master when it came to foreshadowing and climax inducing elements. I guess it just proved how far blitzed I was.

My brain became a no man's land, swirling with thoughts and images of a past life that I would never experience again. I watched as happy memories fluttered through my vision, showing me a slide show of happy smiles, giggling laughs, tickled sides, and sweet kisses. I watched intently as Edward took me on our first date, wooing me off the bat.

Just from meeting me those few times, he gathered I was a simple girl who liked simple things, and that's exactly what he did. The scene of him pulling up to the park and dragging out the picnic he had packed for us. The thoughtfulness he poured into it still astounded me. He'd been perfect from the beginning and I had tainted that my jealousy, driving him away with my stupid actions.

My mind tortured me with the first futuristic conversations we had. Edward wanted numerous kids, with the perfect American Dream life. He wanted to be a doctor, while his wife worked from the home or worked part time doing whatever it was she dreamt of doing, while raising the children. When I just looked at him he quickly back peddled, explaining that he fully encouraged women to work but he didn't agree with the day care systems tactics and he felt that children were too precious to be raised by anyone other than the parents. Furthermore, he melted my heart when he explained that he wanted to coach little league, and be a soccer dad, and attend every play and concert his children were in, regardless of his expectations at work. Of course, he openly admitted that it wouldn't be possible, so he had other plans in place already—a full video camera set up that his wife (or other family member) would take with them if he were in a life saving surgery.

When I asked him how he would explain his absences to the kids he simply said, "Simple. They will know from the get-go that their dad saves lives. I will tell them every chance I get that I love them more than life itself, and that I wish I could be there for every moment of their lives, but I have to play super hero. I fully plan to incorporate them into the hospital I work for, taking them on rounds with me sometimes so they can see what daddy does, and they can see the importance of human life. I think it's vital for children and parents to know each other in every scenario, and I fully plan on working that out to the best of my ability."

Up until that point I had never seen myself as a mother, or someone who wanted to stay at home. I was gun-ho about being independent and self sufficient. I didn't want to stay home with kids while my husband was off at work. It wasn't that I didn't love kids—on the contrary, I had always seen them as a blessing, the most innocent form of purity on earth, but I never saw myself with kids, which in large part could have been because I had never seen myself with someone before now. But the picture Edward painted with his words brought out the mothering nature in me, and started my internal clock.

That moment, with his explanation, I knew I was head over heels in love with Edward Cullen, and I was going to marry that man and have babies with him, and be his editor/writer/stay at home mom wife.

I woke at my place at the counter with my face flat against the granite countertop, my feet dangling off the barstool. How I never fell off—I'll never know. The shrill screaming of the phone pulled me from whatever coma I had cascaded into the night before. Unthinkably, I reached forward and answered just before the machine clicked over.

"Lo?" I asked, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

"Isabella, where the hell are you! Do you know how hard we've tried getting you into Vanity Fair? You're finally here and you fucking flake on me! You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago! Where are you?"

"Garrett?" I asked, trying to place the voice of my manager/agent.

"No your fairy fucking godmother! Yes Garrett! Get down to the shoot, now!"

"I'll be there in ten," I answered before quickly hanging up and sliding off the chair. An intense feeling of vertigo hit and it took everything I had to hold myself up as I clung to the counter for support. Shit, that was a close one. I breathed a sigh of relief before reality caught up to me again and I rushed upstairs, threw on some clothes, and started out to the garage. Since the doorknob was loose at the house entrance, I had to grin and bear it as I turned toward the front door.

_If only Edward wasn't working so many hours that would have been fixed by now!_ I mentally scolded. Not that it mattered anymore.

I covered the side of my face, attempting to keep me hidden from the flashes and jogged to the garage. Thankfully today there weren't as many people out here waiting to get a glimpse of the mess I had become. The Audi started with its beautiful purr, causing me to warm at the sound—speed and torque meant nothing to me, it was just me and the fine rumble of the wonderful engineering, that's all that mattered.

After fighting through the few people that remained in my lawn, I was finally on my way to the shoot of the year. Vanity Fair was one of those shoots that were always high end. All of the greats were in there posing on the glossy pages, swooning at the camera so it would get a good shot. In addition, the photographer names were enough to make you want to pose for them. Granted a few of the photogs had gotten bad raps over the past few years for their scantily clad posing, but the shots were beautiful nonetheless and everyone still wanted to take part. Vanity Fair was slowly becoming the poor man's Vogue. Then again, Vogue was next month for me. That's right, Rose and I earned a place in the Fall edition of Vogue. The day we heard we'd won the gig, we seriously dressed in drag and did the hula. As anyone who is anyone knows Vogue is like Buckingham Palace, it's the top of the top and the icing on the most beautiful seven layer cake. And we made it.

As promised, I was on set within the allotted ten minutes. Late models were typical, but not thriving ones. Just as in any profession, punctuality, and humility were two traits that were required—no one liked a cranky, late model, nor was one accepted. Naomi Campbell anyone? Personality was always one of the keys, and thankfully Rose and I had that small town charm everyone seemed to be looking for at the moment.

The green room was its normal hustle and bustle, everyone running around coordinating outfits, checking different hair styles, and make up colors to go with each outfit, so we would know how to transition. The warm ups were always standard, you do one shoot, you've done 'em all. The photographer for this shoot was just a little more of a stickler for the semantics than most were. Everything during Jae's shoots had to go as planned or she was known for kicking her models to the curb and finding a Jane or John Doe to fill in his or her shoes. It's one of the largest kicks in the teeth one received in the world of beauty. I guess beauty is in the eye of the beholder and is only skin deep. It's just harsh when they pull just anyone off the street to prove the point that you are expendable.

All eyes were on me the moment I walked through the door, my manager gasped, the makeup artist shrieked, and the photographer let out a rather loud and annoying, "Oh no she didn't!"

"What?" I asked, completely clueless. "I just woke up when you called, if you haven't been watching the news that's your fault," I snapped.

"Isabella, what the hell happened to you? Your clothes are hanging off you, you've got worse circles than an insomniac, and you look like dog shit ran over three times. Your hair has lost all its luster. Bella, Doll, we can't do this shoot," Jae Feinberg, the photographer informed.

I looked at Garrett, who looked at Dani Davis, our makeup artist for the day. "I'm good, but I ain't that good. I can't do anything with that. It's going to take several hot waxes, and more concealer than I own to cover those bags. What have you gotten into?"

"Nothing!" I defended. "I've just been upset." Garrett saw right through me, as did Dani.

"You know we could always conduct a 'say no to drugs' campaign, but they won't pay me enough to do that," Jae spoke aloud.

Garrett being Garrett, grabbed my arm and pulled me a side, instantly scolding me about how much of a disappointment I was, how I disrespected him and the magazine, how I knew better than this.

"I know! I fucking know, okay!" I shouted back at him. "I disappoint everyone, I ruin everything! I'm sorry!"

"Bella, clean up your act and give me a call when you do, I may have something open then, but right now my agency is full. I'll call Rose and ask her if she can fill in for you today."

"What?" I asked exasperated.

"I have no room for models who don't respect me or my agency. When you grow up, stop feeling sorry for yourself, come, and talk to me. Until then, stop wasting my time."

Unable to look Garrett in the eye, I choked back tears and fled the scene. If he called Rose and asked her to work the shoot she would know I'm screwed up. Garrett will undoubtedly tell her all about this—and she will tell _him_. I sucked in a ragged breath and with my head down, shoulders slumped, I made my way back to my car, to hide away from the coldness of the outside world.

Once at the car the panic attack began. Not just the 'oh my god, there's some one following me' panic attack. No, this was a full fledged, body on lock down, breath can't get caught, chest constricting, heart stopping, bone crushing panic attack. My knees gave out and I collapsed just as I reached the car door. Lying on the concrete wrapped around myself in a fetal position, I fought against my body to gain control. Each breath taken caused a horrible tightening sensation in my chest and larynx, leaving me gasping and sputtering for any air I could gather. My head began to throb as the world began to get fuzzy and disjointed around me. Everything crashed to a standstill while I tried to calm down with no prevail. When darkness took me, I gladly succumbed.

When I woke I was being held tightly in two giant arms, cradled and kept warm. I batted them away for a moment, before my imagination got the best of me and I nestled in deeper. Somewhere in an alternate universe, my mind created a face to go with the burley arms, and that face of the one I love.

"Bella, are you okay?" the wrong voice asked.

Shocked, and a little put out, I pulled away and looked up to see Emmett's big, piercing green eyes, the same eyes as his younger brother.

"Shit, Bella, what's happened to you?" he whispered, lightly fingering the circles with one of his fingers.

I shook my head adamantly, trying to feign normalcy. His large hand ghosted around my skeleton of an arm and over lapped his fingers where they were now too large for me.

"Where's the rest of you, Bella-Roo?"

"There's nothing left," I croaked as a response. This was true, both figuratively and literally. There was nothing left; I was now only a shell of the girl I used to be. When Edward walked out the door, I gave him all of me to take with him, and now I only had the residuals.

His beautiful eyes kept peering into mine, trying to find some answers. "You're eyes are blood shot," was his clever response.

"I've been crying," I retorted rather smoothly. When I reached up to adjust his arms so they wouldn't dig into my side he gasped when he saw the finger prints around my wrist.

"Edward didn't… he wouldn't…."

"Edward would never in a million years do that to me. I fell, some stranger tried to catch me," I lied. The lies seemed to come easier with time, another new found habit was being formed and groomed as the words spilled from my lips.

"Emmett, I need to go, I have to call Lauren."

"So you can call Lauren, but you can't call us? Edward has been worried sick about you, doing drive bys, calling the house, your cell—which has been turned off by the way. Rose and I have been panicked. What is going on with you?"

"Edward lost the chance to care when he walked out that door and told you and Rose the wedding was off. Yes, my actions before that were less than satisfactory, but they were explainable and he didn't care to wait around for any of the explanations. So the way I see it, he has nothing to worry about, because nothing here is his anymore. Tell him to move on, just as he wanted, and I will do the same." The words sounded brave, but I was dying inside. With each harsh word against him I was sticking another dagger into my already bleeding and dying heart. None of the words were true, nor would they ever be. There was no way to move on past Edward, simply because there was no tomorrow without him in it. The sun wouldn't come up tomorrow, so don't bet your bottom dollar that there will be sun. Just thinking about tomorrow made me want to hurl my guts onto the pavement and cease to exist.

"You know I can tell when you're full of shit, babe."

"Guess that's why my eyes are brown, huh?"

"They sure as hell aren't today, they are dead. Come home with me, let me make you some food, you can take a hot shower and just relax. We won't talk about Edward anymore; we'll just hang out, watch a funny movie or something? I'll even let you watch Romeo and Juliet again," he offered, not that Romeo and Juliet was a funny movie, it was just my favorite and everyone accepted it as such. It was tempting to take him up on his offer. Of anyone I'd ever met, Emmett was the most cheerful person, always the most boisterous and hilarious. If anyone would be able to pull me out of this Edwardless funk, it (other than Edward himself) would be Emmett. He was so easy to get along with, so noncommittal to hang out with. Everything was always taken in stride, and made for laughs. He'd definitely taken me in and adopted me as his baby sister, and I'd felt as much. I couldn't allow him to witness what my life without Edward had been reduced to. If he were to see how bad things were, he would tell Edward and Edward would come back out of obligation, rather than on his own merit.

"I can't, Em, people are waiting for my call, I have things I have to do at the house; I think Laruen wants to go out tonight, and I just, I don't have the energy to do anything more."

"That's the brilliance of my plan, you don't have to do anything but clean up and relax. I'll do all the work." Each denial was proving to be harder than the last. Emmett was wearing my resolve and he could see it. The only thing holding me steadfast was the bottle of Percocet, James had left at my house. At least that would knock me out until it was time to get up and go out.

I shook my head and got up from Emmett's grasp. "Thank you, but we'll have to do it another time." Without another word, I rushed to my car, started it, threw it into drive and rushed out of the parking lot. Lying to Emmett was not one of my proud moments of the day, but it also wasn't the lowest part of the atrocities I had committed in the two hours I had been out of the house, nor would those demeaning acts be the canyon to my low. I still had the entire day ahead of me, a bar to crash with Lauren, and some more H to score.

To a normal person Garrett's words would seem harsh, but to us models, it was reality. Every other day we were hearing another thing that we needed to change about ourselves, our thighs were too fat, it was obvious we ate a carb the day before, our hair was too dark, our hair was too light, our nails weren't cut in perfect sports fashion. Shit, the list went on until the end of tomorrow. In a world of perfection, it was hard to ever amount up to scale. In a world seeking perfection, it was even harder to find your foot hold.

People ask why someone would want to join such a 'hard career.' Most of the time the truth is simple, while for others it's more delicate; I've heard everything from women overcoming their daddy issues, to others just wanting to be the center of attention and to be beautiful. Edward's question for me constantly was, who are they to define beautiful? Rose and I both got that same response any time we were turned down for something. I obviously heard the speech more than she did, seeing as though she was the equivalent to a pin up girl. I, on the other hand, was softer, more your sexy girl next door who could pull a fierce sexy pout and awesome sex eyes (or so I'd been told).

At the end of the day, did any of this mean anything? It didn't used to, but then again, I had Edward during those points. Now, I had nothing. I lost Edward, lost my job, lost my agent, lost Vanity Fair, presumably my friends because god knows once they hear about what I did they are going to flip and side with Edward. Then I really would be alone. There would be no messages on my answering machine, no random texts wondering if I were okay, and no one in the room next to me when we went back to Forks to visit. Not that Forks was ever an option again, but the idea was the same.

Maybe I should just go to Phoenix, my mom would understand, she's the leaver in most relationships and she's flighty enough for the both of us. I could get a new start, get a real job, and use my degree… Well I could have, had I finished school. Had Dad not gotten sick, causing me to drop out mid-semester I would be Isabella Swan, Editor. Or Isabella Swan, Writer. But no, I chose to drop out and take care of my father—which then led to me being on academic probation and having to sit out for a year. Which then led me to moving to LA without my completed degree, which also led to me waiting until Edward was finished with school so we would actually have some time to see each other.

Did I resent my father for being sick and me dropping out, I hadn't until this moment. I just had to remind myself, it was my decision, not his. He'd never asked me to drop out, he had insisted I finish school and that he would be okay, I had been the one to make the decision. After he had the massive heart attack, he became my number one concern, even putting Edward on a back burner for awhile—not that he threw a fit, he understood (yes, I realize I'm a total bitch), but I would have never forgiven myself if something were to happen to him.

When my mother left my father I was four, I denied any and all relationship attempts he made, not because I didn't like him, but because I didn't want to hurt my mother. She was always so worried she was going to end up alone, that I was going to some day leave her, I felt it my responsibility to feed into her fear and promise I would never leave. Once she got remarried, I decided my job was done and I moved back home with my father. Since that time, my father had been my rock. He was the one in the ER holding my hand when Tyler Crowley almost hit me with his stupid van, and when Mike Newton broke my heart senior year, he'd even been there through all the girlie things like the time Jessica Stanley told everyone at school I was a lesbian with herpes. Yes, my father Charlie Swan, was a true and honorable man, and an excellent father. Where did I go wrong?

After all, I am now, and forevermore, Bella Swan, illegal drug user, and I need my next fix-desperately.


	6. Only in LA

Disclaimer: SM owns Twilight and it's characters. Angelnlove52 owns Sn2O

Thank you to 4string for her review last week. Make sure to check out her story the Legend of Green Eyes.  
Kneon for pre-reading  
VPJ for Beta work  
Geeoh for additions, corrections, keeping me sane and laughing at all times of the night. Why is Ausi 12 hours a head of me? I don't like it.

Quick note:::: AS some already know, Next chapter is EPOV. reviews will get it quicker. Teaser up on fictionators Monday. I'll send another clip to anyone who reviews.

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_Chapter Six: Only in LA_  
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As if she had ESP or something, the moment I walked through the door, Lauren called.

"Girl, you need to get out of the house, you've been moping around for two weeks by now! There are better things to do, more hot men out there, and definitely more experiences to live," she blubbered, as if she were high on speed or some shit. Her incessant blabber made my eyes cross and toes curl.

I groaned loudly "Lauren, I think I just…"

"No," she immediately cut me off. "You're not staying at home. You are going out and showing Garrett what a dipshit he's being, you're going to show the entire country how resilient you are, and show Edward what he's missing. You are the hot stuff in this town, and it's about time everyone recognized that! Now go get ready, full model make up and hair job! I'll be there around seven to pick you up for some pre-gaming and dinner, then onto the good stuff."

"Fine," I ground out. I wanted her to hear how unhappy I was about this decision.

I wasn't game for going out. I didn't want people to see me like this, or to assume anything about my situation. If they saw me out on the town with just my girlfriends, the reports would read, "Bella Swan, single and looking to mingle." If I were destitute looking, they would read, "Edward Cullen, dumping dirt bag of Orange County!" that's right folks, because if you were from LA, or lived there anyways, you never said you were in LA, you were in Orange County, or one of the surrounding well-to-do areas. It all made me want to gag myself with a spoon and say I was a Valley Girl, because who the hell really cared anyways? I'm a Forks girl, we don't talk wealth or county—we just are what we are.

The more I thought about Hellywood and all the commotion that was going on around me, the more I felt desperate for the warm embrace of my childhood home. It seemed like it was crossing my mind more and more over the past few hours. Really though, what did I have left for me here? There was nothing. At the same time, it wasn't like I could go home to my father. The moment he saw me he would sniff me out, small town cop or not. My mom was another option, and definitely a more comparable solution since she was more hippy-ish than my straight laced father was, but I was sure she would see through my façade as well.

Either way I twisted my options I kept shutting them down because of the disgrace I had become. I guess for the time being I just had to 'grin and bear it' until I could figure out a way to get out of this mess. Maybe it would be as they said; time will heal my broken heart. The only issue with that was that time might kill me. The more time I am given meant the more drugs that were available, which then led to me doing the same immoral things I was currently doing. I wasn't a complete idiot, I knew I needed help, I just didn't know where to turn, or how to get it. I couldn't risk alerting my parents, because I didn't want to see them look at me for the rest of my life like I was a disgusting disgrace. I'd only been that way for about two weeks and I was already tired of it. I wanted my life back, I wanted my friends and family back, but I knew it could never happen, not when I'm like this.

All afternoon I fought the urge to call James. I sat on the sofa in the fetal position, suffering in cold sweats, because I wanted to find myself numbed so badly. Somewhere in that time frame, it occurred to me that I truly had never had a time when I was able to come down from the drugs—the moment I would feel the effects wear off, I shot up again. This was my first true come down, and it was horrible. Every cell in my body was screaming out for some kind of fix, but my mind over powered it, trying to convince the rest of me that if I could just sober myself up, if I could go through the cleansing process myself, then I could go home and pretend like none of this happened. I could get my job back at Newton's, I could apply for the newspaper in Port Angeles, and I could live with my dad and try to sort my life out again.

But with each tick of the clock, every movement of that little hand, it became painfully obvious to me that there was no breaking free for me. The more time that passed, the more I craved 'the fix.' The more I craved the drug, the more my fingers twitched toward the phone sitting in front of me. The more my body trembled, the more I desired death. The circle was endless and painful. Nothing until this point had proved this hard.

Around five, I finally decided that idle hands did the devil's dirty work, so I might as well do something useful. I stripped the sheets in the guest room, where James and I had been sleeping, then started getting ready for a night out. The warm shower worked wonders on my frazzled nerves, easing the soreness of my tense muscles, and giving me a reprieve to some of my pain. Showers were the best medicine—they healed all wounds and fixed all broken hearts. If only this shower could be a miracle worker and bring Edward back to me everything would possibly work out to the better. If only.

After an hour and a half of primping, blow drying, straightening, coloring, drawing on, and powdering, I was ready to go. The clothes I chose were very whorish, so Lauren wouldn't make me change, but a little more on the contemporary side as to hide the bruising and tracks that were scarring my body. Only my torso that remained littered with the ugly yellowish green markings while my limbs were free, with the occasional exception that I could create a story for.

As promised, Lauren arrived at seven to pick me up for our pre-gaming. Typically with Lauren, pre-gaming consisted of doing shots at home before going out and dealing with all the ugly people of the world, but tonight, since I had entered her world, it was more involved than that.

The moment she passed through my front door she told me I looked cute, but I needed to loosen up, asked me for my tongue, and shoved a needle into one of the veins on the bottom of it. Naturally, I screamed bloody murder because that shit hurt! Only after that did she explain the importance of shooting places where no marks could be detected—between toes, under the tongue, in the eyeball. Yeah, I would never try the eyeball thing. It was completely disgusting and I valued my eyesight far too much to mess it up with a needle that wasn't being held by a doctor of some kind. Seriously people, I'm an addict, not an idiot.

Once I felt the calm rush through my body, she asked me about my contacts, but mostly about how much they charged. As high as I was, I was still ashamed to admit I was trading sex for H, but Lauren always had a way of getting those embarrassing things out of me. To my dismay, when I told her of my deal with James she insisted I call him and invite him out with us. Free drugs were free drugs to her, even if she did have to trade her soul. Then again, who was I to say anything; I was the one who concocted the stupid deal in the first place. It was my whore ass that got myself into this exchange.

Somewhere, a part of me was freaking out, wondering if once James and Lauren were introduced I would be left to find my next dosage another way, from another supplier. Yeah, for the time being James was getting what he wanted out of me, but how long could that last? I'm inexperienced, and probably tedious, considering I'd only ever had sex with Edward. It was hard to compare Edward and James' sexual techniques because they were so different. James was harsh and rough while Edward was loving and gentle. Don't get me wrong, there were several animalistic times with Edward, many times of us just taking each other against the wall or on the floor before we could even make it all the way into the house. Some times those were my favorite kinds of love-making. They showed our unfailing need for each other in its rawest form.

Silently, I began to prepare myself for the possibly that after tonight I would need to be sorting out other options to keep my habit going—even if I were just trying to convince myself to quit mere hours ago.

Lauren and I sat on the sofa, delighting in the euphoria that we were in. My body warmed as I closed my eyelids and I saw _and felt_ Edward sitting next to me.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" his velvet voice asked, hurt and disgruntled.

I just shook my head, ready to move past this part of the question and answer section of the program. Every time I shot up it was always the same questions, why, please stop, when are you going to get help, when will you call me? I was tired of them all and just wanted to move onto the happy memories that surfaced, and the new ones I created in my mind.

_Edward tackled me onto the bed and tickled my sides roughly, sending me into instant fits of giggles and screeches for him to stop. The smile on my face looked as if it were going to crack the porcelain of my skin since it was so big. We had just gotten home from a day trip to Forks and he had met my father for the first time. The beauty of it wasn't wasted on me, the conversations were easy and flowing all afternoon, sports and fishing were major topics, and only every once in a while coming back to me and our relationship. Edward asked the sweetest questions such as: what my favorite bedtime story was, what bedtime prayers we use to say together, what monsters I was afraid of when I was little. All of these were questions that he could have asked me in Seattle, but for some reason it was important to Edward for my father to see that he was interested in all of me, and that he still recognized me as my father's little girl. _

_Each question gave my father this wistful look on his face as if he wanted those simple days back, but realized at the last moment they were fleeting and gone forever. When Edward and I left that afternoon my father held me, stroking the back of my hair for a good fifteen minutes before he let me go, only to take my hands and tell me he loved me and that I found me a good man. Of course those words were whispered and to be held a secret because he didn't want Edward to think he had the upper hand or anything. _

_This all brought me back to the tickle war. Edward wanted to know what secret I was keeping from him and I refused to tell him. I knew it wasn't a true issue, Edward was only giving me a hard time and this way he could do it with his hands on me. _

"_I can't tell you! If I do, I'll be breaking the Swan code!" I giggled, trying to playfully kick and push at him to get him to stop. _

"_And what's the Swan code, Bella?" he asked, laughing right along with me. _

"_Us Swans stick together, thick and thin, and we keep the Chief's secrets!" I shrieked. _

_He stopped suddenly and looked in my eyes, all playfulness set aside, only love and earnest showing through the deep green pools that peered down at me. _

"_I thought they mated for life?" His voice was nothing more than a soft whisper, had I still been laughing it would have been lost on me. _

"_They do, and we will," I answered just as softly, trying to convey all of the adoration I felt for him, and the forever I saw for us. _

"_Bella, you remember what I told you on our first date, about the kids and wife?"_

"_And the house with the white picket fence and wrap around porch?"_

"_Don't forget my windows, I want lots and lots of windows so we can watch the kids playing in the backyard," he answered honestly. _

"_Okay, the house with the white picket fence, wrap around porch and lots of windows while our kids are playing in the backyard on the tire swing and play set you are going to build them," I conceded. _

"_Yes, that conversation," he answered solemnly._

_I nodded in affirmation. _

"_I want that with you, Bella. I want that whole life with you, I want to see you pregnant with my children, and listen to you while you read them "Good Night Moon" and check their closets for boogie monsters and under the bed for creepy crawlies. I want all of that with you by my side." _

_The tears fell in steady streams as he spoke those fate sealing words. "I want all those things with you too, Edward," I responded, my voice cracking with emotion. _

_Now he wore the Cheshire smile that looked too large for his face, and I basked in its glory. _

I felt his lips on mine, soft and gentle at first, gaining urgency until they were devouring me. Everything was wrong, the kiss, the lips, the hands running along my neck, all of them were wrong. Where soft and wet lips used to be remained only dry and cracked fish lips, where the gentle surgeon's hands should be were callous and rough hands in their place. My breath turned inward as I started to panic and come back from the la-la land I had encompassed as real life.

"Morning, Baby," the wrong voice greeted me as I came to. When I opened my eyes, I found blue ones instead of the forest green ones I craved so desperately. I wanted to cry—I wanted to scream and tell him to leave, but I was all cried out and my voice didn't want to work.

"You guys ready to get out of here, because I'm ready to get my par-tay on!" Lauren informed as she danced her way into the room from the kitchen area. "We're going to that bar that the Hillz people were just caught at last week, it seemed hot." Here Lauren goes acting like she can hang out with the likes of LC and Lo. She hadn't realized that we were just low level models who worked several magazines and runway shows, but were no where at the celebrity status of TV reality stars or the supermodels you watch on the Victoria's Secret runway show every year. Our names were becoming more around the house because of our ins and outs with many people—most of which Rose earned us—but we weren't to the Paris Hilton caliber yet. I say yet because Lauren was bound and determined to make sure we reached that status.

I took James' outstretched hand and he pulled me up, causing me to crash into his hard, muscular body, with mine in a perverted way.

"Have I told you how good you feel, Baby?" he asked, causing a nauseating shiver to run down my spine. I looked up at him and felt the chill transfer from his body to mine. Something about the way he was looking at me created a discomfort I hadn't felt before. Suddenly, his eyes seemed daunting, and menacing, almost as if he were sizing me up and ready to devour me whole.

Following the last shred of instinct I had in my body, I pulled away and made my way over to Lauren who was waiting for us by the door. Per usual, she laced her arm in mine and we faced the music together. I locked the door after James stepped out, and the three of us made our way down to the limo Lauren had reserved us for the evening. James' eyes were on me the entire ride to the club, fucking me, scrutinizing me, and metaphorically eating me up. I tried to ignore it, but it continually grew harder, that was until Lauren pointed it out.

"Yo, Dude, WTF is your problem! Why you looking at her like a piece of meat, yo? She ain't a munchy thing." Lauren's out burst caused me to blow a laugh out of my nose in the most unladylike fashion I'd ever heard. Then we all chuckled at her blatant idiocy. "What, yo, you don't like my ghetto fab talk?" she asked, complete with west side and east side symbols with her fingers and all.

"Whatev!" I laughed back at her. And just like that Lauren broke whatever tension was filling the overpriced limo. "It's just us three tonight, right?"

"No, I invited my roommate, and a few of her friends, no one big, just a fun crowd," Lauren informed.

I knew that clubbing wasn't really Edward's scene, but since he is single and on the prowl, you never know where you might find a hot man on a Saturday night. Not only did I have to worry about running into him, but I knew Rose and Emmett liked to go out and throw in some intense party fun on the weekends. Rose was one of those women who liked to feel attractive, so any chance she got, she was dolled up and out and about just to hear the cat calls and compliments in her midst. Hopefully, we'd be able to dodge whoever was out tonight and just do our thing low key, because I had a feeling I was going to end up in the bathroom at least once tonight doing something I shouldn't be doing…and that wasn't counting whatever James would have planned for me.

"A few of my buddies are planning on coming," James informed. "Hope you ladies don't mind."

"Not at all, I just hope they are as hot as you," Lauren offered, I just rolled my eyes. She would flirt with anything that had a dick and could supply her with a means to get some sort of high, even if it were only an orgasm. At times, she was the reason behind the stereotype of the dumb blonde model whores. All I can say is, thank god I'm not blonde. Although, I guess I fit the category more now than I ever had before.

Around ten, we pulled up outside of the newest salad bar in the ritz district. Yes, only in LA could a salad bar actually be considered fine cuisine, and be donned the superficial five star rating that is coveted around the world, and only in LA would the line be half way around the block at ten at night.

"We've got reservations, so don't dote over the line," Lauren instructed. "Besides, look at you, I know you haven't been eating, you've lost like a gazillion pounds, not that you needed to, or that you had it to lose, but somehow you freaking did! I want your diet secret!"

"Here it is, write it down because it's complicated, have the love of your life dump you, get addicted to a substance, and then don't eat anything for two weeks," I informed, rolling my eyes at her before we got out of the security that the tinted windows provided. The moment we were out, flashes started going off, different people screaming at us, asking questions, while others just watched in awe as two people they saw in billboards and in magazines were heading into the restaurant they had been dying to eat at for like months. Sometimes having a recognizable name had its benefits, other times it was just annoying.

Lauren signed autographs and took pictures for different news crews and paps, while I tried to hide behind James and stay out of the lime light. Most people ignored me or looked past me, probably because I wasn't my normal looking self, but once someone caught me the whole crowd seemed to acknowledge my presence.

"Awe, come on, Bella, your public awaits, why keep them waiting. They want to see you, let them," Lauren cooed as she pulled me close to her for a picture.

"Let's go in, I don't want anyone to know I'm here," I whispered harshly. That's all I needed, Rose or Emmett to see me on Perez Hilton or something and come running, or one of my parents to see me on Star Weekly or some shit in my current state. Any of those two catastrophes would ensure a hostile take over—by that, I mean one of my parents would come to LA right away and babysit me to make sure I was doing okay.

Lauren waved like a beauty queen while I drug her into the establishment they were calling "Green" I wonder if there was a red that only served red foods? Or a white that was bland and colorless? Upon entering we were assaulted with green and khaki everything. The floors were an oak finish matched with green chairs and oak tables. It looked like we were walking into some cube and diagonal jungle of sorts. The room was like new age museum meets no colors, and instantly made me think of boogers and poop—yeah, don't ask, when I was in high school I worked in the afternoons at a daycare, I blame that experience, well that and I grew up with all boys from the reservation back home.

Dinner was as expected—leafy greens, collard greens, flowered greens, all mixed with different kinds of nuts. It was non-satisfying and rather bland since they didn't believe in un-purifying the damn greens. Realistically I felt like I was in a room full of a bunch of damn hippies. Hope they didn't realize I was wearing leather Jimmy Choos, or that my purse was a real Dolche and Gabbana and not some knock off. I guess paint should be the lesser of my worries tonight, but for some reason, it stood out prominently.

When James was done choking down his wheat grass juice Lauren threw down the money to cover the tab and the three of us made our way back into the chaos that were the streets of Hellywood on a Saturday night. We noticed Britney, and her man of the month, waiting in line while smoking a cigarette and a few other 'fallen from grace' celebs as we called them. Sure, to the rest of the nation they were big, I mean, Britney just came out with a new CD, but to the likes of the glam and glitter, they had fallen and were still deemed flat on their faces.

Acting the part of the gentleman, James ushered Lauren and I into the limo before taking a seat himself. "So, who's up for some fun?" James asked showing a baggie of white powder. "It will take you soaring to places you've never been," James whispered, trying to sound alluring.

"What is it?" I asked, trying to air on the side of caution before ingesting a substance I didn't know. Lauren elbowed me harshly and gave me a stink eye. "What? I just want to know!" I protested, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Candy baby," James answered simply. Lauren offered him the back of her hand in acceptance. I watched as he placed a bit of the white substance on the back of her hand and offered her a little straw type thing. Every movement was cataloged as she raised her hand up to her nose, placed the straw between her hand and nostril, and sniffed really hard, taking in all of the substance. She then pinched her nose while making a horrible face and sniffed a few more times before shaking her head and looking to me.

"Come on, Bells, you'll like it. It will make you feel like you are on top of the world. You'll have fun, you won't be depressed, hell, you won't even care enough to _be_ depressed," Lauren reasoned with me.

Following her lead I took the straw, offered James my hand, and brought the powder to my nose, pausing briefly before using the straw as a tool to divide the powder into two parts, then raising it to my nose, and snorting the painful substance. Instantly, it felt as if something were violating my septum. It burned, and felt foreign—not entirely unwelcome, just weird. The high was immediate and sensual. I offered the rest of the powder on my hand to James before he nodded to Lauren indicating I should give it to her. She more than gladly accepted the tool and the drug from my hand, and even licked my hand clean.

"God, Bella, your skin is so smooth, and it tastes so good," Lauren swooned.

"What do you want to do about it?" James asked, cocking his eyebrow as if insinuating something to her that I was missing.

"Hey, Bella, I just want to try one thing. Stay very still," she whispered.

I turned toward her and did exactly as she said. Ever so slowly she began moving toward me, her face a mere inch from mine, our eyes locked, her hazel eyes almost the right color to the ones I had lost, but defined all the wrong ways.

"Don't move," she breathed before her lips touched mine in a soft as a breath kiss. Gaining more confidence she leaned in again and this time licked some of my cherry lip-gloss off before sucking my lower lip into her mouth. I registered James groaning in the background just as Lauren's hands fisted into the back of my hair and brought me closer, pulling me to her. The kiss was sensual and sweet, her lips soft and magical, like nothing I had ever felt, fuller than I had ever felt, but all wrong. They were too full and too moist; they didn't taste like Winterfresh gum, or snickers bars from the vending machine at the hospital.

After a few minutes, the limo stopped and so did a groaning Lauren.

"Continue later?" she offered.

I looked into her eyes, not sure what to say, not even sure if I wanted that experience again. I knew I wasn't into girls, yes, their was something to be said about the girl body, I could appreciate the beauty of it, but it didn't do the things it should to me in order for me to say it turned me on. Right now, I felt happier than I had felt in god knows how long and I wasn't about to deny anything that left me feeling at peace, even if it was only for a little while.

"Sure," I conceded, only to make her happy. James helped us out of the limo and escorted us into the club. The fact that he didn't partake of the coke didn't fail to register with me, but I didn't have the mind to care. Cover charge was waved once Lauren and I posed and showed the bouncer our 'award winning, knock 'em dead' smiles (or at least that's what Garrett called them).

The club was off the scale. Bright flashing strobe lights made it almost impossible to navigate through the densely crowded room, and rather nightmarish in the same token. There were no faces—only black masks where faces should be and the room became a super charged bottle of bright light and nothingness. Bodies flashed in wild, jerky movements of crazy jungle arms and flailing legs. Bass thumped and caused my heart to begin pulsating with its movement. Every flash of the light caused me to become more disjointed and confused, not being able to tell which was up or down. James grabbed my hand and lead me toward the bar, ordering us three shots of something I missed the name of.

After we all three threw our shots back Lauren drug us to the dance floor to grind a few songs out. Somewhere in my lapse of time we made a Bella sandwich with James rubbing up my ass and Lauren grinding in my front. I'm not sure when the Closterphobia started to set in, but soon after I started hyperventilating and pulling away. James grabbed my wrists and pulled me to the bar so I could sit down before I passed out, and ordered me a water.

"What's wrong with her?" a rough masculine voice shouted over the music. I felt two hands on either side of my face and forcing me to look up into his burly face. I recognized the green eyes immediately—Emmett. "Bella, who is he?"

I just looked stupidly into his face, not being able to answer anything. I reached out and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling his body close to mine for comfort.

"I'm scared, Teddy bear," I whispered into the crook of his neck, but my voice was over powered by the strong bass and shrieking music. "I'm so scared, don't let me go, please, take me with you." I felt his arm arms wrap around me and hold me close to his muscular chest before I felt harsh hands trying to pull me away.

Trying to reserve the right to defend myself I screamed and clung to Emmett that much harder, hoping he could protect me from everything—James, the drugs, the outside world, the pain, but most importantly myself. My eyes closed tightly as I breathed him in, the familiar scent of the Cullen boys assaulting my nostrils, Winterfresh gum and some spicy Abercrombie cologne mixed with their unique individual scent.

"Bella boo, what's going on? What's wrong?" Emmett asked. I didn't answer, I only clung to him. That was all before Rose's shrill voice overpowered the calm Emmett had cast over me.

"Emmett, what the fuck do you think you're doing? You, little whore, need to get your fucking mitts so off of my…." Once I heard her I let go and took a step back, my eyes took in my surroundings and I gasped, looking around, and taking in Rose's disgruntled physique. Her eyes raked over me before they came to my face and brimmed in recognition.

"Bella?" she asked, her voice shook with shock. My eyes looked over her shoulder and noticed a mop of dark auburn/copper hair walking over holding the arm of a strawberry blonde.

"I gotta get out of here," I muttered, freaking out. I knew it had been two weeks and that he had called everything off, but I never expected him to move on this fast. My eyes sized up the girl, noting her beautiful strong jaw line with complimenting cheekbones. Her eyes were wide with amazement and still innocent—everything mine used to be. Through the crowd, Edward and my eyes met. Immediately he let go of her and started coming my way. I turned to James and began to pull him in the way of the door. He helped me get into the limo and told them to drive me down the block so he could return for Lauren.

At the last moment, I saw Edward run through the door and stop at the side of the road looking after the car, his hands going directly to his hair at the back of his head as he watched me go. The pain in his eyes was recognizable and crippled me into a sobbing mess in the back of the limo, alone.

I'm Bella Swan, and I'm a class action bitch who hurts everyone around me.


	7. Regret

A Note From Your Author: Some idiot, somewhere, decided that I should enter my voice at this point so you could possibly see how this type of thing could affect someone from both ends of the fence… or sides, or however the saying goes. Admittedly, I'm not the author or writer or even any sort of an editor. I didn't go to school for it, and I never studied English past my two required courses—I leave that type of creativity for Bella, I'm the more practical/scientific mind in our relationship—or lack there of at this point in the story. I guess this is my side in the whole thing, post breakup, I don't relish the thought of rehashing any of brake up details. I think Bella will be writing about those later or at least what she remembers of it. Needless to say, I don't feel like there really is anything more to say on the matter. These are just the facts of what someone goes through on the other side of the fence. Not that I really have much to tell, but once again, some idiot somewhere decided I should write the part that Bella doesn't know—the pain this all brought me. So, here is chapter one of my point of view of this story, hopefully the only chapter to be written by me, but that is still left to be decided by the idiots that be. (I'm not very happy about this, can you tell? Refer to the first paragraph and you'll see exactly why). None of you are allowed to hate me for what I say, because at the end of the day, no matter how much of an asshole some of this comes off, I love Bella with my entire heart and I would do anything to see her happy.

As my beloved, Bella, would say… "And on with the story…."

- Edward Cullen

-  
_Chapter Seven: Regret_  
-

There is nothing more demeaning for a man than to feel helpless. We are taught from an early age that there is an answer for everything, we are the solitude of the Earth and are supposed to be able to save the world with the click of a remote. Its crippling and deflating the moment you realize that none of that is actually true? Furthermore, we receive instruction to never show emotion, so once you add that to the pile you are defeated, and an embarrassment to society and the institution of manhood. Extreme, yes, but that's how I felt. I think that's how any man would feel in this position. It's that feeling where everything you once held dear and sacred is now being ripped from you, and thrown into some black vortex somewhere. Everything just feels jumbled and lost—a gut clenching feeling - particularly for a man in such constant need of control as myself.

I sat in the solitude of a cheap hotel room at the edge of town while I thought over everything that came down between Bella and me over the past, god I don't even remember how many days. I believed her when she said the photographs weren't what they appeared to be, even though mentally I couldn't find reasoning behind them. I trusted her when she said nothing happened between her and the asshole in our bed…it also helped that all evidence pointed to that as well. But, it was just all too much. After a lot of thought, I finally concluded that I really didn't believe her—at least not when I left. I do now after being taken out of the situation and being able to think.

Bella wasn't the type to cheat. She always made me feel like I was the only one for her. All of her attention directed toward me, and she always tried to make me feel her love—all of it. Why I ever questioned her, I'll never fully understand, but Jasper, my unofficial shrink and best friend, tells me that it was a green eyed monster living on my shoulder, otherwise known as jealousy. Who wouldn't be jealous in that situation? Coming home and finding your girl in bed with another man—granted, they still had some clothes on, but that's all beside the point. I came home to another man in my bed. Then, after I show enormous amounts of restraint, I get the same asshole in my ER at the hospital and have to treat him. And to drive home my internal state of jealousy-induced turmoil and doubt, there was even more… not even a week later half naked pictures of my girl show up in a magazine, _after_ she's told me she won't pose like that unless it was for me. Any man would have a hard time with that. Especially because we are taught to be Neanderthals and believe our girl is our possession. She was mine and the entire world was seeing what only I was supposed to see. Yes, the green eyed/skinned monster had a hold of me big time.

Only now was I thinking of all the things that could have happened to her. If Mike hadn't brought her home and been drugged himself, Bella could have been raped. If Emmett hadn't shown up and picked Rose up when he did, she could have suffered the same consequence. Had Bella not had enough sense to come home to our house, I may never have found her. She could be dead in some alleyway somewhere and I would never have any answers. The more I thought about it, the more I was grasping of the situation and how stupid I was to respond the way I did. I should have been pissed, certainly, but not with her. My beautiful Bella did nothing wrong. Whom I truly needed to go after was the piss-ant who drugged her and put us through this hell. I should have made Bella and Rose go to the police and gotten the club shut down.

Instead, I attacked the only innocent party. I attacked the one person I loved more than anything, the one person who could have been taken away from me. And I did the unthinkable.

Time passed while I sat there, tugging at my hair, cursing myself for being such an idiot and walking out when I promised her the rest of my life. I don't know how many days passed, each day more haunting than the last. After the first four I stopped counting or tracking them. Each day I called Bella, only to reach her voicemail, or the house answering service. Eventually, her mailbox became full, and messages became null and void. None of them were being responded to, no texts were being returned—she simply disappeared. Somewhere around midweek of week one, I broke down and made my way to our house just to check in and found our premises empty. All of her clothes were there; the house was exactly as I had left it when I freaked out.

I fought hard to ward off the "what if's" and the negative thoughts that encompassed the scenario. At this point, I had nothing to do other than trust Bella. She was a smart girl—I knew this without a shadow of a doubt, but I couldn't help but to wonder what she had gotten herself into.

No one had answers. My phone was constantly to my ear trying to get a hold of one of her friends, who might give me a slight insight, but no one would budge—they all claimed they hadn't heard from her since the model melt-down, as they were calling it. Bella had always told me, "You lose your beauty in this town and you lose everything." I never understood that concept until now. She'd fallen from the Model Graceland and was now sitting somewhere in limbo with no one around her to care. It was exactly as she predicted—exactly as we had seen many a celebrity fall. In LA, fame was glory—without glory in this town, you had nothing.

I was left watching the internet like a hawk, trying to find any signs of her, the media my only source of information. I found it rather ironic to be relying on the thing that pulled us apart to tell me if she was okay. Finally, after five days, she returned home. The cameras snapped photos, and some others grabbed live feed of her fleeing into the safety of our home. Most would have missed the bruising on the back of her legs and around her arms as she ran up the walk and into the house, but I didn't. The handprint spread out over her upper arm caused anger to shoot through me, followed closely by a large doses of anguish to shoot through me in unprecedented spurts I had never experienced.

All of our relationship I had been able to relax and tell myself that I was the only one she had ever been with, I had been the only one she loved enough to share that part of herself with. Obviously, that was no longer the case. It was only after I saw the rope burns, or whatever kind of burns, on her wrists that my mind created the possibility that it wasn't her choice, or there could be another story. Someone had touched her, and not in the way she deserved to be touched. My thoughts went to someone taking advantage of her, possibly forcing her into things she didn't want to do? But in the same token, who am I to judge what she wanted and didn't want at this point. I lost that right when I walked out. Immediately I called Rose, hoping that she might be able to get through to her since she wasn't answering for me.

About a half an hour later, not only had Rose called me, but so had Bella's father, and mother trying to figure out where she was and why she wasn't returning anyone's phone calls. It was hard trying to tell her parents that I didn't know what was going on while not telling them that I broke the unforgivable rule. I'd promised Bella's father, Charlie, that I would never hurt his baby girl, and that's exactly what I did. Of course, out of everyone who called, her father would be the only one to notice the bruising as some form of abuse and instantly jumped into the worrying father role—of course, it didn't help he was a cop and was trained to look for bruising and oddities on people and victims.

Days continued to pass slowly, each more painful than the last. Not only did I know she was home, but now I also knew someone was hurting her. As time went on, the media left while more drama cameras remained causing me to search smut sites for any kind of window into her life. Some reports had gotten her photographed with some guy with long blonde hair, which killed me, but the distance between the two of them on all occasions was a sure sign that Bella wasn't in a relationship of any kind with him. Since I'd met Bella she had been one of the most loving, cuddling persons I had met. If I'd met her a year before I had, I would have said it was clingy and smothering, but with Bella it was different. Every snuggle was like some silent form of love talk with her. It was her way of silently telling me she loved me—of showing me how she cared.

Some would ask, why would a year make a difference in the clingy scale? I don't think it was the year that changed my mind, it was the person. From the get-go, Bella had been the one person outside of my family that understood me. I mean, hell, on our first date I basically told her I was a chauvinistic son of a bitch and she still stuck with me. What independent woman wants to sit around and hear about how the guy she's dating wants her to essentially marry him, have all his babies and stay home for a living? She never ran away, instead, she secretly started looking into ways to work from an editing firm from home once the children came. We were just that in sync, so in essence I don't think anything to do with her could scare me…except for the scene I had to witness taking place in_ our _bed.

Finally, two weeks after I made the stupidest move of my life, the call that saved my sanity arrived—or maybe almost caused me to get committed, I'll never know. Emmett called to inform me of some conversation he had with Bella while in a parking lot earlier that day. If I ever remembered a conversation verbatim, it was this one. Everything about it changed my outlook on love and life and my existence without Bella, not only what it was doing to me, but what it was doing to her—what our breakup was causing her.

"So, um, Dude, Rose got a call from Garrett today, asking her to rush to the set of Vanity Faire for a photo shoot…." He paused, waiting for something, maybe recognition to set in before he continued. "The shoot Bella was supposed to do today."

That recognition Emmett was looking for finally seeped in. Bella wasn't the model enthusiast Rosalie was, but she was still proud of herself for accomplishing such a feat. She was excited about working with such talented photographers, and being made into the princess she never deemed herself. Regardless of how many times I had told her she was a knockout she never paid me much mind, always arguing about how lifeless her hair was, or how her eyes were muddy brown and boring. She never saw the things the world saw. She was exquisite, timeless, and beautiful.

"Was Bella there?" I asked, running my fingers through my hair hopelessly. Unconsciously I rose to my feet and started pacing the guest room at my brother's house, hoping to god he said yes and that she was okay.

"She was, and Dude, it didn't look good. She's lost so much weight; she's so itzy bitzy now. Like seriously she's skin and bones and she had hand prints all up her arms like someone has been grabbing her and manhandling her or something. There were these dark circles under her eyes like she hasn't slept in two weeks. Her eyes were dead, like she was waiting for her executioner, and they were bloodshot, like seriously bloodshot. She claimed it was from crying, but it was more than that, her eyes wouldn't focus on me and she kept itching at her skin like she had a rash only she wasn't really scratching. I don't know dude it was all super creepy. Garrett's worried about her. He had to send her home because she looked like hell, and asked Rose and I to make sure to reach out to her and help her."

"What'd she say?" My voice was harsh and thick with emotion I didn't know how to control. Each word he spoke was like another dagger going into my already lifeless heart.

"She said she had to go home and call Lauren. They were going out tonight. Dude, if she's hanging out with Lauren…." He trailed off allowing me to surmise the rest of the thought.

All my thought processes stopped instantly—I felt like a sputtering fish, making noise, but no words would originate. I was beyond shocked at the idea of Bella having anything to do with Lauren outside of Rose's protection. Not that Bella was impressionable, but Rose was known to be the hard-ass to put Lauren and her 'ideas of a good time' to rest. My mind kept reeling, Bella was in a bad place, Bella is spending time with Lauren…would she?

"If she's hanging out with Lauren then she's probably doing some kind of drugs, and mixed with the signs you just told me you think she most definitely is," I uttered, my heart shattering.

"I asked her to come over, but she said she was tired. I even offered Romeo and Juliet and everyone knows how much I hate that shit. She still said no!"

"What else did she say, Em?" I asked, needing to know. I needed to know all of it so I could interfere. I needed to get a hold of her so I could fix it. I had to get her back.

"I asked her where the rest of her went, because she's seriously lost about thirty pounds or something, and she told me there was nothing left. She also said something about there being reasons for her actions from before, but since you chose to leave you needed to move on so she could do the same. Dude, she isn't moving on, I can tell you that from seeing her, the girl is wallowing, and wallowing hard. I've never seen anyone more broken down over something."

I growled at her insistence of me moving on. It had been the only text message I had received from her, she told me to move on and get on with my life, something about her not being good enough for me anymore. After that, all calls went straight to voicemail and all text messages came back returned as if she blocked my number or something. Without a doubt, I knew she didn't want me to move on, she only thought that's what I wanted…but I didn't—I don't. Bella was the air in my lungs and the earth beneath my feet—she was everything. Without her, there was nothing. Moreover, I would never move on. I would be one of those old men in the rocking chair on their front porch talking about lost loves and a time of war, there would never be anyone else.

"Look, Rose is going to call Lauren, we're going to find out where she is going tonight, we're going to get Jasper and Tanya down here so they can assess the situation and be here to help if we need it."

"Why is Tanya coming?" I groaned. The girl was my cousin, but her next step over the rainbow personality wore me out. I didn't need to be worn out for this, I needed to be strong, my girl needed me and I needed to be there for her.

"When she found out that you and Bella-Roo broke up, she of course now wants to make sure that her favorite cousin is in working order, and something about having a perfect girl for you now that Bella is out of the way."

"What the fuck are you talking about? Tan never met Bella. Bella hasn't even met anyone outside of Gran and Gramps. Who is she to judge anything or say anything about her being out of the way?"

"Dude, I'm just the messenger, don't kill the horse, kill the telegram," Emmett chuckled. I pulled the phone from my ear and looked at it in disbelief, trying to figure out any way that that comment could make sense. Maybe Emmett had taken too many football players to the head while we were in high school.

"Look, I'll be home in five, Rosie will be home a bit later and we will get everything figured out, okay?" Emmett asked, his usual lighter than life attitude taking over once again.

"If you say so. Bring beer, I need something to take this edge off." My voice numb with the weight of dark thoughts crashing down on me.

"I can hire a hooker?" Emmett suggested. I groaned and ran a hand down my face. "Fine, fine, no hookers," he chuckled and hung up.

The moment I heard the click I tried Bella's cell again, still nothing, tried the house phone and of course had to leave, what seemed to be, the five hundredth message on the stupid thing. It was simple, "Bella, please, call me back. I love you."

Once Emmett came home, the two of us started drinking beer while goofing off and watching some stupid movie on HBO or Showtime or something—I didn't pay attention - the TV was just a temporary means of distraction. I'd previously called into the hospital and taken the rest of the weekend off for a Family Emergency so I could deal with this and try to get my girl back. Why everything surrounding the hospital seemed so important before, I don't know. If I had just stayed home when she asked me to that day, none of this would have happened. It wasn't like that would have been much of a challenge, I wasn't on call that day, I wasn't expected to report in. I just wanted the experience. I'd let my job come first and Bella second, something I had always vowed I wouldn't do—but I did it anyways. I had been a selfish prick and now I was paying the justified price for it.

I swear, in the past two weeks I've had to check my head at least five times a day for premature balding—not that it ran in my family, but because I was pulling and tugging at my hair _that_ much. As had become my habit, I logged onto the TMZ website and caught the video that had been shot of Bella curled up on herself in the parking lot just before Emmett got there. I watched their entire exchange, and was horrified by just how much weight she had actually lost. There was nothing left to her, her clothes hung from her body, her hair was limp and dirty looking, and for the first time since I'd known her, she needed makeup to hide how bad her complexion had gotten. Her skin was dull and lifeless, the circles were those of an insomniac, and the spirit of the girl I loved so much was nowhere to be seen. Truly, I was a masochist for looking at the site, I knew what I would find, but I needed to know, I needed the contact with her in some way.

At around five Rose showed back up at the house, dolled up from her shoot with excitement in her eyes. "Eddie boy, get ready, we're going out tonight! I just got off the phone with Lauren, who just got off the phone with Bella not too long ago, and I know exactly where they are going. Lauren is going to make sure Bella gets something to eat, then we are going to have an intervention and get the two of you love birds back together."

"Did Lauren say what Bella has been on?" I asked my tone of voice felt strangely neutral. I couldn't look at Rose— I was far too embarrassed for my girl, to look at Rose.

"No," Rose answered, the excitement leaving her voice. "But, Edward, we aren't too late, we'll get this all fixed. We'll get her, bring her back here and we'll take care of her."

Finally, I looked at her and nodded in appreciation. Rose's eyes met mine before she came over and hugged me tightly. "I couldn't have asked for anyone better to be in love with my sis," she whispered. "We'll get her back to us, I swear. Even if I have to drag her scrawny drug taking ass back here by the hair, kicking and screaming, I will get that girl back to you Edward." I nodded once more and held Rose as she cried.

Everything from that moment to us leaving and getting to the bar was hectic. I researched as much as possible on different drugs, their symptoms, the withdraw factors and everything I would need to make whatever come down she was going to suffer manageable. A lot of the stuff I remembered from classes, but I wanted more, I needed more information, I wanted this to be as easy and painless for Bella as possible.

To say that the whole situation was shocking would be an understatement. Bella didn't even drink very often, let alone ever touch any kind of drug. She didn't have the addictive personality you hear in most cases, so nothing could have prepared us for this, although I held myself to a different standard. I should have known something. I guess it was water under the bridge and now I needed to find a remedy for it.

Tanya showed up around eleven with her friend Kate, who annoyed me just with her presence. Tanya introduced me to Kate as if the second we got to know each other we would be running off to get married and have three kids in the foreseeable future. Not going to happen. Jasper came in shortly after and intercepted the dumb blonde who kept trying to make her moves. Thank god, that guy was some day going to be my brother-in-law, and that somewhere along the line we had become best friends.

The story goes that Bella befriended Jasper first, when she first moved to Forks, then Rose came shortly after—at least that's the way Jasper and Bella tell it. According to Rosalie, Bella was always hers. Regardless, the three of them were like the three musketeers or something. They were always together. Rose was the sister Bella never had while Jasper was the older brother/confidante Bella always wanted. Even now while we were all in our later twenties, Jasper moved to LA to finish up schooling just because that's where Rose and Bella were, I guess it also helped he didn't have much left in Washington after they came here. Either way, the five of us were always together doing something.

Since none of us, other than Tanya and Kate, wanted to get drunk we decided against a taxi and took Emmett's Jeep down to the club, thankfully getting in without a wait because Emmett knew the bouncer (can we say model girlfriends are good for something. Hm?). We waited near the dance floor for about a half an hour before Emmett and I noticed Bella at the bar with her head between her legs and some guy with long blonde hair—the same guy from all the photos—standing beside her rubbing her back. Rose was still looking around not paying attention while the rest of us took action. Emmett was the first who was able to get through the crowd and had her secured while I grabbed a hold of Tanya's arm to pull her and Kate in the direction of the door. I wasn't about to waste anymore time than necessary in this hellhole. Bella and my eyes met over Rose's shoulder, the lifelessness I saw there killed me. Immediately her eyes moved to my grip on Tanya's arm, then to Tanya, then herself, before she looked to her friend (I refused to think of him as anything more than that) and they took off out the door.

A split second decision had both Emmett and I out the door following her but we were too late, blonde jackass already had her loaded up into a limo and tapping the roof, signaling the driver to take off. In that moment, I felt like I was stuck in one of those romance movies. I was stuck there on the side of the road, hands pulling at my hair while I looked toward the car that was pulling the love of my life away from me.

"Where is she going?" I demanded, grabbing the guy by the lapels of his jacket.

"Who the fuck are you to be asking those kinds of questions? And what's it to you pretty boy?" the blonde demanded.

"I'm Edward, her fiancé!" My voice rose much louder than I had intended, and cracked on the word fiancé. I couldn't allow there to be a question there. She was my fiancée, I would make sure we would get married, there were no other options.

"You mean ex-fiancé. Didn't you break up with her?" he asked, his eyes growing wide and a smile forming on his lips.

"Everyone makes at least one fucking mistake in their life, now where is she going?" I asked, shaking him to enunciate my words.

"Home," he answered simply, the sadistic smile never left his face.

Emmett and I looked at each other, I threw the guy toward the sidewalk and we started running toward the car with Rose quick on our heels. Directions were barked, faster routes were screamed, and curse words were muttered toward slow drivers and red lights. When we got to our house, all of the lights were off, and the front door was closed tight. I knew she wouldn't be here, but I had to check. My hand shook as I put the key in the lock and ran through the house searching for her. The house was a pigsty, dirty clothes were strung throughout the house, the trash was overflowing, and upon further inspection, I saw the needles with blood in them. Fuck! Bella had bypassed all of the lighter drugs and gone straight for the hard shit. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I slammed an open palm against the wall and fought to keep the bile where it belonged.

My medical training went into full effect. I started running through all the possible diseases she could have contracted, wondering if she was sharing needles, calculating what kind of symptoms she would be showing when we found her, and how far gone she was. I'd have to write her a prescription for Methadone or Subutex to try to counteract the effects of the drugs and try to lessen her withdrawal symptoms. Both were highly addictive, which was another cause for worry, but lesser than getting her off whatever it was she was trying now.

We searched the house for I don't know how long until we got the call. Emmett answered his cell immediately, putting it on speaker for all of us to hear.

"Emmett, help me. I can't do this anymore, I can't fucking live like this." Bella's sobs were consuming her voice.

"Bella, where are you? I'll come get you," Emmett offered

"Emmett, I don't want to live anymore. I can't fucking do it. I can't find a way that I want to die, but I can't fucking live like this!" My hands balled up into fists, my knuckles whitened as my breathing became shallow as I held my breath. Her entire life flashed before my eyes and I began to panic.

"God damnit! Bella, where the fuck are you?" Emmett yelled.

"Emmett, what's going on?" Rose asked as she came into the room.

"I—I—I gotta go," Bella responded and hung up immediately. In that one sentence her voice changed, as if someone just came in, she sounded more afraid than she did upset. Emmett and I both eyed each other, worried because she wasn't home, and none of us knew where to find her. I tried desperately to hold it together, she needed us, and I fought the cringing fear emanating from my body to no avail.

In the moments I was frozen Emmett tried calling Bella again before I reached into my pocket, pulled out my cell and tried her number, hoping beyond hope she would answer.

"Edward, help me," Bella begged. Her voice sounded far away as if she were in a tunnel, the echo around her reminded me of the many times we spoke while she was doing her makeup. "I don't want to do this anymore… please."

"Bella, what's going on?" I asked, unable to keep the fear from my voice. "Baby, just tell me where you…"

"I love you," Bella whispered right before I heard shuffling, static, some sort of a struggle, a loud crash and the reverberating voice from the club.

"Bitch, let's go!"

After that, everything went silent.

The blood drained from my face and extremities.

Bella Swan, the love of my life, was in trouble and I didn't know how to save her.

* * *

**AN:** Methadone and Subutex are real medications to help people get off opis. They are equally as addicting if not taken correctly. I worked at a pain clinic for almost two years and fielded millions of calls where people were looking for both drugs. Methadone is also used as a pain medication…though it is not recommended because it will mess with you. Just a little fun facts.

* * *

**Happy B-day K!**

**End Note**:: First off, I had a slight influx of new readers last week, between alerts, favs and hits. Thank you for jumpin on the crazy train. Please let me know how you found me so I can thank the powers that be.

3c cullen, was awarded the sneak peak into this chapter, who will get it for next chapter? Reviews keep me going and will get a look into Chapter Eight, Falling Fast, Save me Now. It is the beginning of the end of the darkness. after next chapter the light will start to become more prominant. Chapter Nine will start to lighten up, Chapter Ten Bella and Edward are 'together', and you get to see Charlie.

Vote: Please Either PM or Review and let me know what you want me to do with Chapter 9. Chapter nine is broken up into two parts, first Bella's point of view, followed by Edward's point of view. Do you want me to post them together, or do you want me to do two updates that week? You have two weeks to decide.

Update: I'm not sure when the Update will be next week, i don't know what day I'll be off during the week, but i'll let you know when i respond to your PMs and Reviews.

Hang in there, there will be a HEA. Bella and Edward will be together...and in the epi it talks about the possibility of a bright and happy future... just sayin.

**Photos**::: there are links of all the Sn2O characters as I see them on my profile. hope you like them, feel free to share your thoughts


	8. Falling Fast, Save me Now

-  
_Chapter Eight: Falling Fast, Save Me Now_  
-

Once James and Lauren joined me in the limo, we were off, they were both whispering directions to the driver, but I was too distraught to actually pay attention to. It wasn't until we were fifteen minutes into our drive, I realized I had no idea where we were going. After what happened all I wanted to do was go home and crawl into our bed and cry until I fell asleep. Not that it was really our bed anymore, I guess now it could only hold the title of _my_ bed. Edward was probably sharing a new bed with the strawberry blonde.

That wasn't fair and I knew I was not being rational, but at this point, frankly, I just didn't give a damn.

Lauren took my hand and dragged me in through the back entrance of her Malibu home, making sure no one saw us as we arrived. I looked around for James and let out a loud sigh of relief that he was no where in sight. If he were here with us I knew what would happen, I'd do more drugs, I'd fall deeper into the never ending hole that was my life and shortly some time thereafter, I would probably die.

Did I want to die? Yes, in some form I did. But Edward's eyes looked so panicked when he saw me at the club, he was moving toward me so swiftly, like he wanted or needed something. The part that wanted to know what he had to offer was more prominent at this point in the game. As much as I had been taken under by everything else in my life, my addiction to him was still stronger than anything I'd ever felt.

When James came around back, with another man close on his heel, I panicked. I wanted to forget, I wanted to try to move on with my life the only way I could—with Edward as close to me as possible, but the more people keyed into my behavior, the worse off this would end up. Not only that, but what if his friend expected the same things James did? I'd given myself to one man other than Edward, I wasn't sure if I could live through giving myself to another.

The need for my hallucination was greater than my self preservation at this point, so I opened the door and allowed them access, all the while panic stricken and shaking. Seeing Edward with _her_ at the club was probably one of the hardest things I'd ever lived through. After that, I wanted to forget everything. But I didn't want to do it this way anymore.

Seeing Emmett, feeling his arms wrapped around me while I was freaking out in the club, brought a piece of reality back to me. Since thinking about home for the past few days, it seemed like now was my time to get out. I didn't want to live like this anymore; I just didn't know how to fix anything. I placed my phone in my pocket discreetly after turning it on for the first time in what seemed like months.

"You ready for some fun, Baby Girl?" James asked, a smile crossing his face but his eyes remained hard.

"I think I'm going to sit out right now, I may join in later, but I just…."

"Bella, we've talked about this! Come on!" he ordered, grabbing my hand and pulling me into the living room where his friend and Lauren were talking. I hadn't noticed James' crony sneak this far into the house, and was slightly startled watching as he cuddled up on the sofa as if he were here to stay.

We came to Lauren's house after escaping the club. Whose decision it was, I'm still not sure, but somehow we ended up here. Shortly after we walked through the door James was on his cell trying to get a hold of someone, but neither Lauren nor myself knew he was inviting anyone over.

"This is Laurent, isn't he hot?" Lauren gushed, playing with Laurent's dreads. His skin was a dark olive, and hair a dark brown, giving him almost an Italian look.

Laurent looked up at me and nodded his greeting with a simple, "Bella."

Lauren pulled out a box from beneath her coffee table, opened it up, and showed a series of needles and white vials. I felt the sweat begin to build on the back of my neck as the fear pricked my skin, causing me to break out in goose bumps.

I pointed over my shoulder. "I'm going to go to the bathroom real quick," I tried. James and Laurent's eyes flashed to me and whatever fear I felt just a moment ago, was nothing to what I was feeling now.

"You trying to punk out on us now?" James hissed, pulling me toward the coffee table. He threw me to the ground and pulled my arm out placing it flush on the table in front of us.

"We can't inject it into her arm," Lauren tried to argue for me.

"I'm going to give her a little something so she will become more compliant," James insisted. Big tears started falling down my face. His grip on my wrist tightened, holding me down. He pulled something from his pocket, held it to his lips, had Laurent light it, and forced whatever it was into my mouth. Unwillingly, I was forced to suck in air. I felt the tart thick air whip into my lungs, causing my vision to haze almost immediately. My head began feeling as clear as it ever had, but foggy at the same time. Colors became more vivid and the lines of reality began to blur. With that one hit of whatever it was, I felt as good as I typically did just after the most intense orgasms. The euphoria couldn't be compared to anything else. I felt as if I could do anything I wanted.

"What was that?" I whispered, or at least it felt as if I breathed the words in total and complete awe.

"Meth," James answered as he handed the pipe to Lauren. My eyes got wide. I'd heard stories of people who smoked meth, their teeth became disgusting and fell out.

"Don't worry. You didn't smoke enough to get much of a high, only a little euphoria that will last for just a few minutes, enough to make you compliant."

I didn't like the way he said that—enough to make me compliant, compliant for what? I wasn't going to do anything else tonight. I'd already done coke at the bar, along with a shot of something, and now a hit of meth.

My head started spinning, so I laid down, trying to catch some semblance of bearings. I could feel James holding me down on the floor, his hands wrapped tightly around my wrists and I tried to fight. I wasn't opposed to sleeping with him, hell, I'd already done that countless times, but the way his friend looked at me, as if I were something to eat, caused my skin to crawl, even in my induced state of nothingness. I knew I couldn't say yes to either of them right now, or I would forever regret it. My voice kept screaming for Edward, my lungs constricted around his name, begging him to come and rescue me, but no one came, and my world turned black.

"_Young man, what are your intentions with my daughter?" my mother asked, trying to act all tough guy, little did she know Edward had already won the seal of approval from Dad. _

"_Well right now, I plan on loving her, and hopefully, eventually, I hope she'll take me to be her husband, at which time we will have some kids and grow old together," Edward answered honestly, clasping his hands in his lap._

"_Is that so?"_

"_Yes ma'am."_

"_What if I say I don't approve?" Renee shot back. _

_I shook my head and laced my arm through Edward's._

"_Well then, in all do respect, I love your daughter, and I know her well enough to realize she is fiercely independent. And although you may disagree with her choice in men, I have a feeling if she decides she wants to marry me, you're going to have quite a little spitfire on your heels until you agree, because I will not marry her until you give your agreement?"_

_My mother's eyes grew wide at his brazen approach, her cheeks tingling with a slight rose color at his bravery. She was used to being looked at as the weaker sex compared to my father, the Police Chief, and her husband, the Diamondbacks newest centerfielder. _

"_But, of course, it always helps that she already said yes," Edward finished with a wide smile. He pulled my hand into his and lightly kissed my ring finger. _

"_Isabella Marie!" my mother scolded, jumping to her feet, and clasping her hands. "You got engaged and you didn't call your own mother to let her be the first to know?"_

"_Actually, Mrs. Dwyer, if I may be frank?" Edward asked, pulling out his nineteen fifties diction that always had me swooning like in an Audrey Hepburn movie._

"_Honey, you're gorgeous, you can be anyone you want to be!" Renee gushed, grabbing my hand and looking at my three karat heirloom ring. "And holy shimfissel, will you look at the size of that thing! Where were you between my divorce and me getting married to Phil?"_

"_Probably still in high school," I grumbled at her, Edward chuckled. _

"_We have decided to tell all of our parents in person, so you are second in line to Charlie, because of course I had to ask his permission before asking Bella to finally be mine," Edward reassured. "I meant no disrespect." _

_She gushed over us and continued to ask Edward all kinds of asinine questions. Of course Renee being Renee, had to ask him all of the things he was interested in, so she could possibly find her hobby for the next month. _

_We stayed the weekend in Phoenix, meeting with all of my old friends, and my mother's circle. Edward seemed to fit in with my world down here, just as well as my world in Seattle and Forks. Fate couldn't have picked a better suit for me. Edward was truly perfect in every essense of the term—the perfect gentleman, lover, friend, boyfriend, fiancé. He was quickly and surly becoming my everything, and I was becoming more addicted to him with each passing day. _

When I awoke with both men crowded around me, passed out, I had to clasp my hands over my mouth to keep the bile in me and the screams from erupting. I couldn't remember what happened. Lauren was no where to be found and I was alone with both James and his friend. I was naked…on the floor…with two men…and coming down from whatever I was just on, and badly. My head was screaming in pain, my mouth felt like a seven year drought, my limbs were shaky and unsteady as I tried to move. Naked, I crawled to my pants, retrieved my phone, pulled it to my chest, and rushed to the closest bathroom. With my mind on autopilot I dialed the ten digits I knew could rescue me—the ones that would bring me someone I could trust, someone who was strong enough to pull me out of here no matter what.

"Ello?" a muffled voice answered on the third ring. It sounded like either Emmett had just woken up or he was stressed and freaking out.

"Emmett, help me," I pled softly, holding my hand around my mouth and the receiver hoping not to let any sound travel past the phone. "I can't do this anymore, I can't fucking live like this." The sobs were inevitable and constricting. I curled up on the toilet trying to hide myself with my legs. I was disgusted with myself, and felt dirty and slimy all over.

"Bella, where are you? I'll come get you," Emmett offered. But I wasn't ready for him to see me like this—especially with James and his friend still naked in the living room.

"Emmett, I don't want to live anymore. I can't fucking do it. I can't find a way that I want to die, but I can't fucking live like this!"

"Goddamnit! Bella where the fuck are you?" Emmett yelled. I heard loud, shallow breaths in the background, almost as if someone were hyperventilating. My thoughts immediately went to Edward and the shallow breaths he took the night his mother and father were in the car accident. The unknown scares Edward the most, because he's always so in control, the moment something goes off kilter, he goes into fight mode and has to correct it.

"Emmett, what's going on?" Rose asked in the background.

I heard the door to the bathroom open and I looked up to find James, staring at me, his eyes on fire with anger.

"I—I—I gotta go," I responded and hung up immediately.

"Do you want to get caught?" he asked, his voice harsh and threatening. The phone let loose an ear shattering ring from my hand, the number on the caller ID informed me it was Emmett again. I was too afraid to answer, what would I say? How could I tell him where I was without it alerting James that someone was on their way to get me?

I felt the whimper come to life at the same time I saw James flick the syringe twice, before he headed my direction. "Come on Baby, it's time for round three," he cooed. Round three? Where the hell did round two go? I scurried off of the toilet and tried to back away from him, getting as much room between us as possible.

"James, I think I'm done for tonight," I sobbed, terrified, making my way toward the shower.

"Laurent and I want to have some proper fun, so unless you wanna do this stone cold sober..."he trailed off. The threat was enough to get me to do anything he wanted. My eyes flashed as he took another step toward me, now leaving only about ten feet from where I stood, to where he was approaching.

Once again, the phone lit up and started ringing in my hand, this time Edward's number came to view. Without hesitation, I hit the green button, relief flashing through my body in alarming speeds.

"Edward, help me," I begged, keeping the phone away from my ear, hoping beyond hope that James would think I was dreaming again. "I don't want to do this anymore… please."

"Bella, what's going on?" Even from my hand Edward's voice sounded panicked, it only made me cry harder, a sob escaping my lips.

James' eyes grew larger once he realized what I had done—that someone was on the phone. My legs hit the edge of the tub and I fell backwards taking the shower curtain down with me.

"I love you," I whispered, right before the phone was ripped from my hand and thrown into the wall.

"Bitch, let's go!" James ordered, grabbing my hair and dragging me into the living room. He kicked Laurent in the gut and threw me to the ground. "This bitch is trying to get out of here, can you fucking believe it?" he yelled at me, his spit flying everywhere.

"Where's Lauren?" I asked, my voice shaky and cracking because of my tears.

"I don't give a shit, she's not my bitch to keep track of," James yelled at me.

I turned into a shaking pile of mess as I watched James' eyes flicker between angry emotions. He watched me like a hawk would watch its prey, I swear I could see him salivating. When he reached for me, I flinched away on instinct, but it never deterred him, my actions only caused his hands to move faster. My fingers clamped around his when they tightened into a vice grip around my neck, effectively cutting off airflow to my lungs and circulation to my brain.

"Do you realize how much of an ungrateful little bitch you are, Bella? I've given you free solitude, offered you everything you could ever desire—and yet you slap me in the face. You keep waiting for him to come back. BUT HE WON'T!" James roared, his face contorting into one of an angry demon.

He took the syringe and brought it to the crook of my arm with one hand. My instincts instantly flew into fight or flight mode and I fought back as hard as I could, moving, twisting, kicking, hitting, in any direction and with as much strength as I possessed. But I quickly lost the battle. I felt my vision begin to turn spotty from lack of oxygen and my muscles grow weak. The needle was shoved into my arm and the vile liquid filled my veins once more.

That time I remembered everything that followed, and there were no happily ever afters in my subconscious. Visions of Edward never came to save me from the pain of what was about to ensue. I felt James and Laurent take their turns with me, I felt the excruciating pain as they pushed into barriers that had never seen this form of attention. I saw the looks in their eyes as they reached maximum enjoyment from their actions, and I heard their moans and exclamations of enjoyment. Each and every thrust was recorded in my mind's eye completely unveiled. And each round of pain was warranted.

I deserved this. I deserved to be hurt beyond recognition. I deserved to be beaten and battered. I tore the heart out of the only man I truly gave everything to, and I disgraced our union. I disgraced his memory in my life by giving myself over to some idiot in an alley way.

Thankfully, after the third go around each, they threw me behind the sofa.

"Go to hell with the other ungrateful bitch," James spat. My eyes locked onto the sleeping form next to me, my hands rushed over her body, trying to seek something, anything that would allude to the presence of life. Laurent laughed at my persistence, kicked me hard in the stomach, sending me gasping to the floor next to Lauren, and with that, they both left us.

At some point I remember blacking out again, but only because Edward was with me again. This was a totally new memory, one that had existed, but in a different place and a different time. In the real memory we were laying in my bed and I had just informed him Rose wanted me to move with her to LA. In the new vision, Edward was laying next to me on the floor.

"_Love, you know I'll follow you anywhere. You are my life now," Edward offered. _

"I don't want to go. Edward, I'm scared," I explained both in my memory and out loud.

"_I'm going to be with you every step of the way, don't be scared. When I was little and afraid of something, my mother would always tell me that love is the strongest weapon man could fashion. Love was strong enough to defeat anything if you let it, even your worst fears. Let our love do that. Let it take us on a new adventure, and hold us together." _

Tears were streaming down my cheeks, I could taste them on my dry, cracked lips. "I don't want to be afraid anymore, Edward," I whispered, but it didn't permeate the memory.

"_You know, someone did write a song saying that love's the only house big enough for all the pain in the world," I answered with a small giggle as Edward tickled my sides. _

"_Exactly. Let me love you, let us do this." _

"No, Edward! No, I don't want to go," I cried, once again, afraid that he would disappear again.

"_Bella, love, everything will be okay. We're going to be together, forever." _

I'd never given much thought to how I would die—though I'd had reason enough in the last few days—but even if I had, I would not have imagined it like this. Surely, it was a good way to die, with thoughts of the one I loved, with visions of him lying beside me. Romantic even. That ought to count for something.

As terrified as I was, I couldn't bring myself to regret the decision. When life offers you a dream so far beyond any of your expectations, it's not reasonable to grieve when it comes to an end. The poison smiled in a friendly way as it slowly moved forward in my blood to kill me once again.

The fallacy to death is you see a bright light, you see the faces of those loved ones who had crossed over before you, all ready and waiting to greet you with open arms with all the angels and archangels, with all the accompany of heaven. I was waiting for those sights. My body already felt dead, my stomach eating at itself with pain from the kick and the lack of food in it for the past weeks. My limbs proved useless when I tried to move them, but then again, I wasn't really determined. The only movement I was fully capable of was blinking.

Every time I blinked, the world would become dark for unknown periods of time, sometimes only feeling like seconds, others minutes. Each time left me wondering if this blink was going to be my last. Edward stayed with me, holding my arm during the entire process. His warmth filled the crook of my arm and spread outward as if he were applying more pressure to it.

My attention diverted from Edward's green eyes as I heard Lauren making keening noises, her body began to shake violently. Even without any forms of medical education, I knew the signs of someone ODing. Thank God, I'd never seen the process up close and personal until this very moment, but I still recognized it. She was seizing, and she needed help.

When I moved to get up it felt as though someone had strapped blocks of ice to all of my limbs, slowly I made my way to her house phone, hoping they could run some kind of a locater on the call, and dialed the ill-fated three numbers that could save the both of us.

"Nine, one, one what's your emergency?"

I looked around frantically for Edward, trying to find him in the chaos of my rampant thoughts. It wasn't until I felt him running his hand up my arm that I remembered what I needed to be doing. Edward took me by the arm and led me back to Lauren.

"This is Bella Swan; my friend is ODing on Heroin and some Meth…maybe even some coke? I'm an addict, and I'm exhausted. Please send someone to help us?"

After that, my eyes blinked their last.

E/N:::When Reviewing let me know what you want me to do with Chapter Nine. It is written in two parts. One update day or do you want one early week, then the second late week… it's up to you.

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed. Keep in mind next chapter will be a breach in the darkness. And then we will start working on the issues and finding the light!


	9. Oblivion

Gee, K, VPJ...I love you muches chickies! Gee... I need you...make me laugh!

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_Chapter Nine: Part One: Oblivion_  
-

Charlie, Edward, and I sat in the stands, watching the Seahawks play the Chargers. Okay, correction, Edward and my father watched the game, I, on the other hand, sat there completely confused and zoned out. Football wasn't my cup of tea, and found myself typically lost in translation right about the time of kick off. Edward tried to explain the game to me as it went on, but by the time the countdown clock thing decided there were fifteen seconds to some part of the game he gave up. Charlie then chuckled, patted Edward on the shoulder, and reminded him that, "Bella has always been a lost cause when it comes to football, but she is an adorably cute lost cause. So you have to love her."

Edward laughed and rolled his eyes at me then turned to my father. "I don't know that sounds rather tough being that she doesn't understand the slightest bit of the game."

"Hey! I know what a touchdown is!" I protested loudly, causing everyone around us to look. I ducked my head and hid in Edward's shoulder, trying to disappear from the unwanted attention.

Edward protectively wrapped his arms around me and held me close. Time went on and I offered to be a beer runner, getting the most enjoyment from getting up and moving around, examining the stadium.

At one point, a swarm of people were exiting the stadium, leaving me in a stampede of moving bodies, pushing me each way, joining lines, and talking loudly.

"Gorgeous, what are you doing out here all alone?" a strange man asked, the way he looked at me gave me the creeps. I tried to walk away but he grabbed my arm and pulled me back to him. "I just want to talk to you, get to know you better," he explained, his hand cupping my cheek. I turned my head in the opposite direction, trying to get him off me.

Being that my father was a cop I knew basic self-defense, but always tried to wait until I could defuse the situation before resorting to violence.

"There's nothing to get to know. Now please let me go," I begged, trying to pull away.

"Aww, Sugar, don't be that way," he muttered, his deep northern accent coming through thicker now that he was annoyed.

"Let. Me. Go," I demanded, punctuating each word as if he were dense and needed the extra time to understand.

"I believe the lady asked you nicely to let her go. I won't be so nice. So either let go, or face the consequences." The safety of Edward's voice filled me with a sense of protection and comfort.

"She your girl?" the stranger in front of me asked.

"She's my fiancée, yes," Edward answered, his hand coming down over the man's trying to get him to let go.

"Man, you need to keep an eye on your whore. A piece of ass like this is hard to come by. She might be gone before you realize it." The man let go of me, throwing me toward Edward. Being the protective man he was, Edward placed himself between us. I felt my father's hand on my shoulder, posing a sense of back up in the form of gun power. Yes, my father, the cop, carries his gun with him everywhere, all a part of the badge. I watched as the man sized up Edward, who was now flexing his fists, eyes narrowing and his jaw tight, then my father, his eyes lingering to the gun in my father's belt.

I was used to that look of fear, most people had it when they looked at Charlie and realized he was a part of the law force. Typically, his face was kind, his big brown eyes causing a sense of security—when he was in cope mode, it was a very different experience. Cop Charlie tended to scare me a little as well.

"Look, I was just trying to have a conversation with the bitch, I didn't want any trouble."

That was all it took. Edward grabbed the guy by the collar of his shirt and shook him harshly.

"Edward, stop, come on, let's go back to our seats," I begged. My father pushed me behind him, ready to join in whatever altercation may ensue.

"You need to learn how to properly treat women, and I'm about to show you how to." His voice was cold and quiet.

"Edward, please, let's just go," I begged again. Edward turned to look at me and nodded.

"If I ever catch you talking or treating a woman like that again, I will take care of you," Edward threatened, pushing the man backward. He waited until the guy retreated before turning around and taking me into his arms, holding me close.

Until I felt his arms encompass me, I hadn't realized I was shaking. "Shhh, Love, I've got you. You're safe, I won't let him touch you again," Edward whispered in my ear. "I won't let anyone hurt you. I have you, you're safe. It's over Baby." His voice was calm and soft.

By the fourth ring, I answered my phone. I knew from the ring tone it was Sue, my father's girlfriend. I just couldn't figure out why she would be calling midday while she was supposed to be at work.

"Hey Mama Clearwater, how's…."

"Bella," she gasped her voice thick with tears. All motor functions froze at the sound of her voice. "Baby, I think you need to come home."

"Sue… what… is my dad okay?"

"Baby, it's no… he… your father had a heart attack, Baby." Her voice gave out as the tears rocked her body.

"I'll be there in three hours," I answered, deadpanned, my hand closing around the cell phone causing it to snap shut in my haste.

I collapsed onto the floor in a heap of a sobbing mess. Edward heard me fall and came running. His sweet velvet voice covered me in an eerie calm of hushes and comforting words. Every word he spoke was full of love and support, trying to pull me through my darkest hour.

**The rhythmic beep in the background steadied my thoughts for a moment while I listened to Edward whisper words of comfort. **

"**Love, I'm here. I have you. You're safe. You're going to be okay, everything is going to be okay," Edward whispered. I felt his head resting on the pillow next to my cheek. "No, I'm not leaving! I'm a doctor, I know what she needs!" Edward growled. **

**When dreaming it's not uncommon for me to speak, or even to thrash to avoid whatever nightmare I was encompassing—but this was totally different. Everything was black, my limbs forbid me to move, and my mouth refused to respond. The beeping accelerated before everything went back into a steady dream sequence of memories. **

Suddenly, I was five years old and in our backyard in Forks, on one of the rare sunny days we had. My swing set that my father built last year—at my mother's insistence—rusted through, but I demanded I be allowed to swing one last time before my father and Billy took it down. After twenty minutes of begging and pleading my father, against his better opinion, agreed and took me to play. He pushed me for fifteen minutes before he had to run in the house to grab something, telling me to be careful for the two minutes while he was gone.

Feeling the air swoosh out from underneath me, my hair whipping all around me with the speed I was flying, I gained the desire to accomplish the jump all the big kids were doing in the playground at school. Countless times I had watched the older children swing as high as they could go and leap off the swing when they were at the top of their arch.

I pumped my little legs as hard as they would go, causing me to go much higher than my father had first permitted, and decided by the sixth incline I was ready to take the next step into childhood. Once I achieved the peak, I jumped, and flew about six feet, successfully causing myself a never before seen nose plant straight into the moist, hard ground below me.

The screams that permeated were ear shattering and straight out of a Stephan King movie. Instantly, I grabbed my nose to try to dull the pain, but came up with a handful of blood, which only caused the shrieking to grow more intense. After that, the scent of rust and salt assaulted whatever sniffing mechanism I was still able to use and caused the world to begin to wobble and spin around me. I felt the urgent butterflies in my stomach trying to escape the only way they knew how. I puked before falling back to the ground in a dead sense of darkness.

When I awoke, I was in the hospital, my father smoothing down my hair, and humming me a song Grams Swan used to sing to me before she died.

"I see the moon and the moon sees me. The moon sees the one that I want to see. So, God bless the moon and God bless me. And God bless the one that I want to see."

I didn't notice I was crying until my father stopped the song and started talking to me.

"Bells, it's okay puddin' pop. I'm here, baby, everything's going to be okay," he whispered as he gently kissed the side of my face. I reached up to him, asking him to lift me and hold me. Even big girls are allowed to be held by their daddies. I knew so because I'd seen it in a movie.

"Awe, baby, it's okay, I won't let you fall. Daddy's got you. Everything will be okay, daddy won't let anything happen to you baby girl." My father's voice was so calming and sweet, it made the sleep want to come to my eyes and pull me under. I knew my daddy's words to be true; he'd always protected me, from everything, the monsters under my bed, the ghosts outside in the forest just beyond my window, even estranged canines. He even threatened little Mike Newton that if he ever tried to kiss me again he was going to pummel his hiney… whatever that meant. My father was a hero, not just to me, but also to the entire town of Forks, and I knew he would help me get through this.

With what seemed like a snap of a finger, the clicking of some ruby slippers, and a hop, skip, and a jump, I was in Phoenix. To this day, I still remember the exact outfit I was wearing when we left my father. My mother had just picked up sewing as her newest hobby of the month, and I was wearing a purple outfit with small pink flowers. The shorts came mid-thigh, staying in place with an elastic waist and three buttons that really served no purpose other than to look fancy.

I was laying face down on my bed screaming for my father, telling my mother how much I hated her for taking us away from the only life I'd ever known—for taking me from my father.

My mother sat beside me on my bed, rubbing my back, offering words of apology, but I didn't want them, I wanted him. I wanted the only man I trusted, the only man who protected me—the man I vowed to marry when I was old enough. I screamed and kicked at her to get away from me, yelling for him to come and save me from what she'd forced us into.

"Bells," my father called. The tears stopped immediately and my head shot up looking around the room until I saw my mom holding a telephone in her hand. "Renee, let me talk to her," my father pleaded. She offered the phone to me, but never moved to come to me from her stance in the doorway. I reached out with grabby hands, but she refused to come to me. Deciding that my father was more important than preservation I jumped off the bed and ran to her, taking the phone and putting it to my ear.

"Daddy, I want to come home. I don't like it here," I sobbed.

"Bells, it will be okay, I promise."

"No, Daddy, it won't. You're not here. Who's going to protect me from the monsters? Who's going to keep the ghosts away? You're my knight in shining armor and you're not here! You can't protect me from things when you're not here." I heard his sniffles through the line and it broke my little heart. "Daddy, I'm sorry, I'll try to be brave, and I'll try to be a big girl." I wanted to do anything to stop the pain in his voice, and the sniffles that I associated with tears.

"Bells, you are my big girl. You know I love you right."

"Then why aren't you here?"

He sighed, probably trying to come up with an explanation I could understand. I understood that. Sometimes big people had to come up with sayings us little people could understand—daddy said it was natural because big words with little people didn't mix.

"Sweet Pea, your mommy needs to move where the sun shines so she can be happy. She needs the sun, Baby. All of these clouds and rainy days make her sad. You don't want your mommy sad now do you?"

"But what about you Daddy? Why can't you come?"

"Because someone has to stay here and protect Forks. That's my job, Sweetie, you know that. I gotta catch all the bad people," he explained. "But I love you, I will always love you. Whenever you need me, I'll always be there baby. I'll always protect you." For some reason that explanation was enough to ease my troubled heart.

"Okay Daddy," I sighed. "Daddy, sing to me?" I made my way back to my bed and cuddled up with the phone nestled to my ear waiting for him to start.

I listened to his calming voice, and relaxed with my eyes closed, imagining he was there with me singing me to sleep. Sure enough, I was dreaming before I knew it.

I was Bella Swan, resident daddy's girl, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

**Sorry for the split chapter, but you'll understand when you read it. It makes sense then!**

**Reviewing is love, so please leave some. **


	10. 9 pt2 Regret

**Happy Veterans Day! I would personally like to thank all of the men and women who have fought and given their lives for their Country. Regardless of where you stand on America's stance on war, or our placement in other countries, please remember to thank all those who have given their lives for us. Because of them, America and say that we are the home of the free and the brave. Because of them, we have the freedom to sit here and write whatever comes to mind. Because of them, we are allowed to worship who and whatever we choose. They are the reason we are what we are today. They give us reason to stand tall and be proud to say we are one nation, under God. **

**From the bottom of my heart, thank you. **

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed last update. Ya'll make me happy to wake up early and check my messages~!**

**VPJ, K, Gee-Ya'll keep my world spinning. I love you...like mad crazy love you.**

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_Chapter Nine: Part Two: Agony_  
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Being a doctor has some benefits. One of which being that the moment your fiancé is brought into the ER you are called immediately by any friends that are running the pit. However, there is also a down side; I was able to listen to the 9-1-1 call Bella placed. Another upside was that I was able to follow her treatment plan, but once again, the downside was I wasn't able to assist with _any_ of the treating—I was 'too emotionally invested.'

By the time, Rose called Charlie to inform him of what happened it was already all over the news and he was on his way. I'd lost track of how long she'd been unconscious and how long I'd been sitting the chair in the corner of her ER bay while they pumped her full of stabilizers and preventative scripts. He tried to console himself with that thought, knowing that when he had taught her the protocol and tell the dispatcher what she and Lauren had taken.

Various conversations throughout the years passed through my mind, all the times I'd told her horror stories of people who came into the hospital and hadn't given us correct prescription information, which ultimately sent them into D-fib.

No matter how long I sat there, listening to her heart monitor, the only thing I could think of was Carmen's face when I ran through the emergency doors to find Bella. I'd never seen anyone with as little color as she had.

"_Edward—" she started, but I cut her off._

"_Where is she? Where's Bella?" I demanded, panicked. _

"_ER two. They are trying to stabilize her, she's got a lot of shit in her system, I'm amazed she's alive."_

"_What does she have? What are they giving her?" _

_She looked down at my chest before reciting all the diction she would normally tell a family member instead of a fellow doctor. As if that weren't enough, her next words caused me to fall to my knees and grab my hair. _

"_Edward, there are signs of rape. She was found naked and badly bruised on the floor… there… there was a lot of blood, whoever did this didn't take it easy on her. The police are waiting to take samples from under her fingernails and run DNA testing on the semen they found." _

_The last part only solidified whatever death and retribution I was going to manifest on the unsuspecting demon or demons who did this to her. If I would stop at that._

"_Give her a morning after pill. She's not on birth control," I informed. __I knew Bella well enough to know she wouldn't be able to handle reminders if she was raped, and abortion was out of the picture, neither one of us believed in murdering an innocent child. This was the only option to prevent a spawn from being produced. __Bella and I had discussed the options of babies, whether it be in our future or coming up in our current situation. I wanted one in the worst way, I wanted to watch her belly grow with my child, and I wanted that bond between her, myself, and our baby._

_Bella was seemingly reluctant at first, being that she was from a broken home and felt like she was a mistake being that her parents were young (though, much younger than we were right now), and not married at the time. The more we discussed it, the more she grew to love the idea. Secretly she made up her mind, and stopped taking the pill, only to tell me a week later as a surprise. To say I was overjoyed at her decision would be an understatement. This was all I ever dreamt about since meeting Bella, a wife whom I loved, and us having children. _

That was two months ago, and because of my workaholic tendencies here lately, we'd had sex three times since the revelation. Once again, a prime example of me choosing my career over my future and my love, letting subconscious selfishness get the best of me.

_Me being the only family she had in the area, and me being the one to know all of her medical background, I was asked the complete history and physical. _

_Was she depressed…? No… at least not until I left. _

_Has she shown signs of drug abuse in the past…? No. _

_Has her personality changed in the past month…? Yes, and it was my fault. I left._

_Has she taken any other illegal substances in the past six months to the best of your knowledge…? No. But she was slipped GHB a few weeks ago._

_Does she have a history of opioid derivative dependency…? No. She won't even take Motrin until her headache hurts so bad she can't open her eyes. _

_The list was redundant and useless. All of the answers were No. Bella had no prior history before this. Yeah, she broke her wrist last year when she fell down the stairs, but she didn't take the Percocet that was written for her. Sure, she even twisted her ankle five months ago, but refused to take the Tylenol three's I offered. She didn't like the feeling of being out of it. One thing I knew about Bella was that she preferred to be cognitive through life. All of this was out of character for her. _

"_Tell me what you've done?" I asked once Carmen was finished rambling her questions. My voice was weak as I tried to take hold of myself._

"_We began gastric leverage because we weren't sure how she took the drugs this time, there are some old track marks between her toes, and some new ones forming on her arms, but we figured we'd cover all bases. We then administered activated charcoal and laxative, than began a regimen of narcotic antagonist, followed by Intravenous fluids." _

_I nodded slumping against the wall, satisfied that they were pulling out all the stops. _

"_We also hooked her up to O-two, she was having a hard time breathing." _

_The voice of my psych and illegal substance teacher rang through my mind at Carmen's addition. "Fatality rates are higher in patients who use alcohol and other drugs such as benzos and cocaine. Death is most commonly due to respiratory failure or asphyxiation." _

_It was standard—to be expected, but it didn't make it any easier. I felt her hand on my forearm before I looked up._

"_Edward, she's stable, we're doing everything we can. The good news is she didn't have much alcohol in her system, and about a fourth of the cocaine her friend had in her system."_

"_What friend?" I almost snapped, my eyes narrowing, hoping it was whoever did this to her. _

"_Lauren... Lauren Mallory," she answered, looking down at the chart. _

"_Holy fuck!" Rose cursed, walking up behind me. "Is she okay?"_

_Carmen looked at me, then back to Rose. "She's Bella's sister… well might as well be Bella's sister. Is Lauren okay?"_

"_Screw the drug sucking hussy. I want to know… is Bella okay? Edward! Tell me something!" Rose demanded. _

"_She's unconscious, but she's stable," I answered quickly before turning to Carmen for Lauren's stats. She didn't need to tell me anything, the look on her face said it all. "She didn't even make it to the ambulance alive," Carmen answered softly. _

_I dragged my hand down my face in desperation. Emmett's big hand clomped down on my shoulder trying to offer some semblance of comfort. _

After that, I went into my head. My brain immediately went into jargon talk—breaking down each treatment, what we would have to do if this complication arose, what hurdles we might have to cross. Every plausible outcome immediately dissected and utilized to form the next round of treatment. Until I read her lab reports, I couldn't tell what her tox levels were, I could only hope everything was low enough that she would come from this unfazed.

Once the majority of the doctors and nurses cleared, we began the sit and wait game that I always hear the family members complain the most about. I sat in the corner, holding her hand, trying to whisper whatever words of encouragement I could offer.

After a few hours, tears started running down her cheeks, my name coming from her lips in airy gasps, causing me to move closer. My lips found her ear and I whispered the only words I could think of. "Shhh, Love, I've got you. You're safe. I won't let him touch you again. I won't let anyone hurt you. I have you, you're safe. It's over, Baby. I need you to fight. I need you to stay strong for me so you can come back."

The heart monitor and EEG systems both told me she had gone to another realm of consciousness shortly thereafter.

Time passed like that for ungodly hours. Every so often, she would panic and I'd give her whatever words of reassurance I could offer. A few times she would start whimpering for her father and I was left to fill the void until his arrival.

At some time during the night Bella was moved up to the third floor for surveillance, not that it was needed, because I wasn't going to leave her side— besides, I knew more shit than half the fucking doctors in this ward. Not that any of them were here at four in the morning, but that was beside the point. Yes, the doctors in this wing had drug abuse knowledge, but I had tactical training and I knew Bella. A few nurses wandered in wanting to offer her a sedative to cause the talking to stop, but I couldn't allow it. Her random rumblings were the only thing keeping me sane—the only thing giving me hope that we were still connected.

Eventually, around six a.m. Charlie rushed into the room and took hold of Bella's other hand. His eyes looked to me with all the questions any father would want/need at this point—his baby girl was lying lifeless in a hospital bed, of course, he wanted answers. I told him everything I knew—medically—adding to the information Emmett was getting from the police that were here asking questions and gaining information.

"They think she fought whoever did this to her. She had a lot of skin under her nails, they think…."I had to take an extra breath, trying to gain some composure. "They think it's skin samples from two men," I choked out, unable to tell him that his baby was possibly raped.

He looked down at her, his eyes scrutinizing the placement of her bruising, occasionally he would raise a part of her gown to gain more visual before he looked to me and asked the question I didn't want to answer.

That's the point in which I broke down. I clasped Bella's hand to my forehead and sobbed. I couldn't control myself. Everything was proving to be too much and I was cracking.

This was all my fault.

If I hadn't left, had I just stayed and tried to work this out, none of this would have happened. Had I just went over there instead of calling like the pansy ass I am, she would be safe in my arms right now.

"Edward, why don't you get a breather, go get some air for a minute, and come back, okay? You're not doing her any good by breaking down right now. My little girl is so small, she needs us to be strong for her," Charlie whispered, tears filling his voice, causing him to clear his throat to dispel the breaking and thickness. "Rose is outside, go get some coffee, go hit something."

Every part of me wanted to stay with her, but I knew he was right, and the thought of hitting something—anything—was more appealing than ever before. Dangerously so.

Rose was waiting for me, her arms wide open for me the moment I walked out the door.

"How is she?" Her eyes were bore into mine.

"Still stable, still asleep," I answered. "At this point I think her mind is just trying to protect itself from whatever happened." I rested my forehead on her shoulder and allowed the tears to continue. "Rose, if I hadn't left. If I hadn't…" my voice broke before I could continue.

"And if I hadn't told her you called off the wedding…" she informed, her voice trailing off with her admittance.

I pulled away and looked at her.

"I called her after you called us, and I just had to find out what happened. I told her you called to tell us the wedding was off," she admitted, cowering away from my murderous glare. Words I had spoken in the heat of the moment had been expelled to the only love I had ever known, leaving her more broken than before. All of this—every ounce of this—was my fault.

Before I could say anything I would regret further, I took two steps back and retreated. I needed to be by myself. I needed time to think this through and figure out where to go from here. I knew paparazzi would be swarming the place trying to find out more information on what happened to Lauren and Bella, so going downstairs was out—the only place left to go was the smoking deck on the fifth floor.

I passed my access badge over the express elevator then once again to gain admittance to the doctor's lounge before making my way outside into the chilled morning air. With every inhale, I thought up another memory I wanted to one day create with Bella.

I envisioned our wedding, the day our first born was brought into this world, the cutting of the umbilical cord, the first cries to dispel from it's still slightly blue tinged lips, gazing into its blue-grey eyes, and cleaning its soft brown hair.

I watched as we signed the deed to our new home, moving day when we arranged everything for the nursery, painted the walls a soft yellow to fit either gender, and installed the in house monitoring system just to be extra cautious.

Both of our parents came into view as they held baby Masen or Elizabeth and cooed, causing the baby to giggle at their silly grandparents.

These were all things I would be unable to witness if I had lost her. So with every exhale I began thanking whatever deity would listen for this second chance to do things right. I prayed for guidance so I could put her first and everything else in life second. I offered everything but my first born son to the God I hoped was up there, to grant me many happy years, a long and prosperous life with a family and my wife to be, and begged him to make her give me a second chance—a chance to do things right this time.

By the time I made my way back inside, the sun was beginning to rise in the sky, and the cooled air began to warm with its rays of light casting down on us. I took a moment to allow the warmth to seep into my skin, taking it as an 'okay' from the powers that be, before I made my way back down to room 1404 to check on the reason for my existence.

When I walked back into the room I heard Charlie singing to Bella, his stance over her much like mine before I left. He was sitting in a chair beside the bed, his body over her, softly stroking her greasy, matted hair.

"I see the moon and the moon sees me. The moon sees the one that I want to see. So, God bless the moon and God bless me. And God bless the one that I want to see."

When he was finished, he continued in a soft whisper, promising her everything I already had. "Bells, it's okay, Puddin' Pop. I'm here, Baby, everything's going to be okay," he whispered as he gently kissed the side of her face. "Baby, it's okay, I won't let you fall. Daddy's got you. Everything will be okay, daddy won't let anything happen to you baby girl."

Charlie paused for a few minutes collecting himself before he went on.

"Bells, you are my baby girl. You know I love you, right? Why didn't you call me? Why didn't you tell me something like this was going on? I love you, I will always love you. Whenever you need me, I'll always be there baby. I'll always protect you. That's what daddy's do—we protect our baby girls."

"Where were you for all this?" Charlie asked me, sensing me standing behind him. "Why didn't you stop this? Why weren't you with her? How did this happen? You told me she would be safe with you!" I could hear the agitated disappointment of a threatened paternal animal rising in his voice.

I wasn't sure how to answer his questions. For the first time in weeks, I had been exactly where I needed to be… it was her that wasn't. She wasn't supposed to be with the guy from the bar. She was supposed to be with me, but she ran.

_Did I hurt her so badly that she would prefer to be with someone like him verses me? _

"I was at the house. I didn't stop it because I didn't know she was at Lauren's," I answered evading the question. He turned and looked at me, expecting more. He was a cop—he knew how these things worked.

I exhaled loudly before giving him an abridged version of what happened, making sure to emphasize what an asshole I'd been, how his daughter had ended up in our bed with another man _after_ being drugged, which then led to me leaving her unceremoniously. His eyebrow raised in speculation when I told him about how I tried calling, but she never answered and wouldn't accept my calls. I could read it in his eyes; he was silently asking me why I didn't do more.

_Why didn't I do more to get her back? Why was I such a coward?_

"Edward, come talk to me out in the hall will you?" Charlie asked his voice calm, hands flat against the bed. The eerie look in his eyes should have alerted me to what could be coming, but I didn't second guess anything.

The moment we stepped into the hall and I heard the door click, I found myself slammed into the wall by my collar with Charlie nose to nose with me.

"What the FUCK do you mean you left my little girl!" he screamed at me.

"Sir, sir, I'm sorry but you're going to have to be—"a nurse tried, but stopped the moment Charlie's murderous gaze turned to her.

"You could have killed—"

"Charlie, you know this isn't Edward's fault," Rose tried, clasping onto Charlie's shoulder. "You know how much I love her, and I'm not blaming Edward. This was Bella's decision as much as it was Edwards. She chose to get wrapped up in the drugs."

Charlie chose not to listen to Rose's voice of reason and reared his fist back, ready to hit me before Emmett stepped in, grabbed him around the waist, and pulled him out through the waiting room door. I can't lie, the idea of Charlie hitting me would be deserved… I deserved more than a punch in the face. Regardless of how this turns out, I would never deserve her love again. I hurt her beyond belief, I ruined her, and now we would have to deal with the consequences.

Rose sighed loudly as she stomped after them, probably in attempt to diffuse whatever situation would be going on down the hall. I took this time to return to Bella's room, determined to spend some time with her before her father had me banned from the hospital and stole her back to Forks away from me.

After all, she is Bella Swan, Chief of Police's only baby girl, and the light of his eye.

**Since next chapter is the reunion of these two love birds...while Bella is awake at least...what do you say, Review and tell me what you think so far? If you haven't ever reviewed, now would be a great time! Plus reviews will make my weekend off that much better! I'll beg if you make me, but please don't? **

**There have been a lot of new readers lately, a lot of new fav and alerts added this week, please let me know where you heard about me so I can say thank you to those responsible.**


	11. Awoken

I've got a lot to say then onto the lightest chapter as of yet!

1). I was total reply fail this week and I apologize. There is a very good reason, though I doubt you would be interested. If you want a glimpse into my weekend, go google Eastern State Hospital, Lexington Kentucky, and you will see where I spent the majority of my weekend and most of my day yesterday (while I was supposed to be at work). It's the place of horror flicks and OMG spending bewitching hour at one of the oldest mental facilities in the US is super freaky! My friend Robin and I didn't let go of each other's hands the entire time we were there! URGH the things we do for friends.

I know I sucked last chap…but this chapter I will do better, promise!

2). Since I was such a fail, I decided I would make a HUGE thank you here for everyone who reviewed last chapter: Katie, AZIdolFan, Pixie-belle88, amandaolsson, MingaMae, Meamichell, chuey361, vampiregurl, MJScream, Miss Artemis Black, 3c Cullen. You guys are awesome and I loved reading your thoughts! Your reviews seriously inspire me to continue writing every day and are the perfect cure for writers block!

3). Kneon has created a new website that is the truth behind Hollywood, it's pretty cool and they are writing awesome stories regarding rpatz and the twi gang…. The site is: thwi (dot) wordpress (dot) com. Go check it out!

4). Next update::: I'm not sure how next week is going to play out due to Thanksgiving and my days off will be spent creating my sister-in-law's registry—ooooooh goodie! My bestie told me yesterday that Thanksgiving is next week and I seriously cried! I think I may ask the hubby if we can move across the country so I will no longer have to host!

5). I am looking for a beta! So, I've started this new story…totally different than anything I've ever written (it's not dark) it's adorable, and my pre-readers tell me it's their favorite story I've written. If you have an eye for punctuation…please let me know if you're interested. I'll tell you more about it if you PM me. I have the first 35 chapters written so far and I'm excited to get it fine tuned so I can start posting once Sn2O is wrapped up.

* * *

Large portions of this chapter were taken from New Moon Chapter 23, The Truth. Glory shall be given where glory is due. Stephenie Meyer owns all portions taken from New Moon, the characters, and the Twilight Series. No copyright infringement intended.

-  
_Chapter Ten: Awoken_  
-

I had the sense that I'd been asleep for a very long time—my body was stiff, like I hadn't moved in hours, days even. My mind was dazed and slow. Strange, colorful dreams and nightmares swirled dizzily around the inside of my head, blurring the lines between reality and my unconscious. Everything was so vivid. The horrible and the heavenly, all mixed together into a bizarre jumble. The dreams were still strong—I could remember every minute detail, clothes people were wearing, hair styles of passer bys, the voices, and the words. But the strongest, clearest, part of the dream was not the horror. The angel was most clear—_my _angel.

It was hard to let go of him and wake up. I did not want to shove this dream away into the darkness of forgetfulness. Edward had been more real to me in these dreams than he had been in weeks. His velvet voice sounded as if it were truly right next to me, whispering soothing words, attempting to protect my mind from itself. He was so real, I could even smell him around me. The sweetness of Wintergreen Gum and spice of his manly soap lofted around the room and assaulted my senses.

I struggled with it as my mind became more alert, focusing on reality. Then again, I couldn't figure out what was reality and which parts were dream. I remembered all of those past memories, so as far as I could tell they were dreams; I couldn't relive them…could I? With that being said, it wasn't like my life hadn't been upside down and tilted to the left a bit since Edward left. It was hard to pinpoint the difference between anything. High, sober, dreaming, awake, they were all the same. They were all, painfully too aware for me.

For the life of me, I couldn't remember what day of the week it was, what events led me to my enchanted state, or even where I was; but I was sure the moment I opened my eyes, I would be alone again. Not truly alone, I was certain James or Laurent would be next to me—yes, I remember that part of my harsh reality—but alone in the sense that I wouldn't have Edward, or my heart with me the moment my eyes opened and allowed the outside world in.

I squeezed my eyes more tightly shut. I was still dreaming, it seemed, and it felt abnormally real. I was so close to waking… any second now, and it would be gone—he would be gone—the reason for my existence would be gone.

But I realized it felt too real, too real to be good for me. The strong muscular arms I imagined wrapped around me were far too substantial. If I let this go any further, I'd be sorry for it later. Hell, I'd already be sorry for allowing my dreams to become this real. My heart was already aching to reach out and wrap itself around the figment my mind was creating next to me as it was.

At some point, I knew I'd have to open my eyes and face the cold hard truth that he wasn't there. He didn't care anymore. I knew that much wasn't a dream. That, what happened, was reality. Edward was gone, and I was alone to walk the Earth. In all honesty, there was no reason for me to open my eyes—I had no desire to.

If I had the choice, I would stay here in this dream for the rest of my life. I would gladly choose this oblivion over a reality where _he_ didn't exist for me.

The light from the world around me peered through my eyelids, casting a bright red glow into vision. If I concentrated hard enough I could even make out the dark lines where my veins were usually hidden within the thin layer of skin. I heard the beeping of what sounded to be a heart monitor, but couldn't place why the noise was so loud when I had to be at home, or was I at Lauren's house? I felt the surface below me tilt with some added weight, and an exasperated sigh as a heavy arm moved a little on my stomach. With a resigned sigh, I wrenched open my eyelids to dispel the illusion.

Well, clearly, I'd gone too far; it must have been a mistake to let my imagination get so out of hand. Okay, so "let" was the wrong word. I'd forced it to get out of hand—pretty much stalked my hallucinations—and now my mind had snapped.

It took less than half a second for me to realize that, as long as I was truly insane now, I might as well enjoy the delusions while they were pleasant and more real feeling than they had been in weeks.

I opened my eyes again—and Edward was still there, his perfect face just inches away from mine.

This was very good, as far as delusions went. The face, the scent, everything—it was so much better than any high I'd encountered thus far. The beautiful figment of my imagination watched my changing expressions with alarm. His eyes were wide with concern, with bruise-like shadows under them. He looked as though he were possibly awaiting my reaction.

I blinked twice, desperately trying to remember the last thing I was sure was real. Lauren seizing on the floor, my father pushing me on the swing, Edward saving me from the crazed Seahawks fan at the stadium, I wondered if any of it really happened in the first place. But the thing with Lauren seemed so real. Maybe I died right along beside her, hadn't I taken the same combination of drugs she had, and then whatever James had forced on me.

"Oh crap," I croaked. My throat was thick from sleeping.

"What's wrong, Love?" His eyes were sincere, more compassionate than I deserved, and definitely more loving than I would ever expect. Even from a delusion.

I frowned at the ceiling unhappily, then turned back to Edward, noting his face was unhappy. His eyes looked too serious, his cupid-bow lips turned down in an unnatural frown. I wanted to reach up and gently take the worry lines away, kiss under his eyes, then end with a soft kiss to his pouty lips. I wanted to do all these things, but my body and mind were too heavy. My limbs felt as if they were made of ice, frozen and solid. My brain felt like a pile of mush, incapable of any intelligence.

"I'm dead right? That's why you're here. Fuck!"

Regardless of the situation, whether or not he wanted me, the thought of dying terrified me. Not because I didn't want to be dead-quite the opposite really. Death meant no more pain, but in the end, it also meant that I would never get to say goodbye to Edward. No matter how we left off. I owed him a true and heartfelt apology. Honestly, I owed him more than that, but that was all I was truly able to give him at this time. I had nothing. I was nothing. Therefore, I had nothing to offer in grievance.

My eyes began to prick with tears and a large lump formed in my throat—both uncharacteristic feelings if one were dying—at least I would think so. But it was the only explanation that fit. Edward left. Edward called off the wedding. Edward never came back.

"Bella, you're not dead, stop being ridiculous," Edward muttered, beautiful velvet surrounded me with his words as his eyes searched mine. He truly had the voice of an angel—_my_ angel.

"Then why am I not waking up?" I asked. My breathing began to pick up as the panic started to rise. My dad would have a coronary if anything were to happen to me, especially because of something stupid I had done.

"You are awake." I looked into Edward's concerned eyes once more. His eyes were darker than I remembered, more full of sorrow. Somehow he looked older, his face looked pale, his hair lusterless. Granted, he wasn't nearly in the horrible state I was the last time I looked at myself, but he definitely was worse for wear. Typically, my Edward delusions were better kempt than I had allowed this one.

Maybe this was some Freudian thing; maybe subconsciously, I was trying to convince myself that because Edward called in my darkest hour and I heard in his voice that he truly cared. That Edward, the one on the phone would look disheveled and distressed at my current state, but that didn't mean it was reality. It couldn't be. It was almost impossible.

My head was getting clearer. My eyes flickered away from his face, unwillingly, for one second, to the bright window that was providing the only source of light in the room. I started to remember details—James and Laurent holding me down on the floor, Lauren crying out in pain just before her body began to convulse, the feeling of the vile liquid rushing through my veins, the phone calls—both to Edward _and_ Emmett.

That must be why he's here. He's here because I told Emmett I couldn't live like this anymore. He's here because I'm in the hospital and I told his brother that I wanted to die. Edward isn't here because he _wants_ to be, he's here out of obligation—because he feels he has to be to serve some propriety task.

"Where's Lauren?" I asked. My voice came out hallow and empty, completely devoid of any and all affection. I knew the answer before Edward had to answer. I saw the vomit spew from her mouth as her eyes rolled back in her head and her body shook in unnatural ways.

Edward looked down at our clasped hands. The moment he drew attention to them I saw the track marks running down my arm and the bruising around my wrist. I gasped at the unnatural coloring of my skin and the tainted person beneath the ugly skin.

"Did all that really happen then?" I whispered, tracing one of the longer marks.

"That depends. What happened?" Edward's eyes met mine again as he took my other hand in his, stopping my incessant motions. "Bella, what happened after I left? What is all this?" His hand motioned over my body, directing my attention to the bruises covering my arms.

I shook my head and tried to instinctively recoil into myself; remembering that he didn't want this—he didn't want me.

"Why are you here, Edward? I'm obviously fine. Go home…or wherever you've been staying."

His eyes caught mine and the hurt there almost stomped my already shattered heart into dust. I watched as his eyes became red rimmed and glassy with emotions I had never seen before.

"Bella, there's nowhere else I'd rather be," he whispered. He shifted so he was sitting straighter, his fingers coming to my cheeks, brushing off the tears spilling over my protruding cheekbones.

"But you… I…." I started but couldn't find the words. He placed his index and middle finger on my lips, silencing me, instructing me he had more to say.

"I was an idiot. I should have never left you. I should have never told Rose and Emmett what I did when I was angry. I know you didn't do any of the things I accused you of. It was all just too much at once, the stress of finding you, work, all of it. I should have stayed and talked to you about it. Bella, I owe you an apology. No, of course I owe you much more than that. But you have to know, Bella, I love you, more than anything in this world. I've made so many mistakes and they've all came crashing down on me now, one by one. I chose work over you, I grew angry and distrustful the moment something unpleasant happened, and I walked out on you when you needed me most.

"Please know that I had no idea about any of this." He waved his hand over my body once more with a lack of words to direct attention to the utter mess I had made of myself which currently hid under the hospital gown. "I feel sick, sick to my core, even now when I can see and feel you safe in my arms. I am the most miserable excuse for—"

"Stop," I interrupted. He gazed at me, his eyes so tormented they tortured my soul. I saw everything I needed to see. I did this to myself. I damaged myself, created this mess within something he once found beautiful. I saw it in his eyes; he was only here out of guilt and obligation. I had to do something to set him free. I had to allow him his freedom from the fuckup I'd created in my life…within my body. "You have to know that none of this is your fault. I chose to do this to myself. I chose this life. It just so happened to start once you left." I looked away, unable to look at him anymore. I knew what I needed to do. It killed me, and the feelings of death crushed my heart at the idea of what I would do without him. I didn't quite see how I would survive this time, but it needed to be said. "Edward, you can't think about things that way. You can't let this…this guilt… rule your life. You can't take responsibility for the things that happened to me. None of it is your fault. It's just part of how my life is now."

I paused and took a deep breath before looking at him again. I was on the verge of losing it. I had to set him free. I had to give him a way out so he wouldn't blame himself for my mistakes anymore. I'd known from the beginning that I wanted him here for me, and not because of my mess.

"I think you should leave," I whispered. His eyes narrowed in suspicion and disbelief, and his hand gripped mine tighter.

"Is that what you want?" I searched his eyes, hoping to gain some insight in what he wanted. All my life, I'd never been a good liar, but if it meant I could save Edward the pain of staying in a loveless relationship, I would tell him anything necessary. I wanted to see him happy. I wanted to hear stories of him succeeding in life and growing into an amazing doctor, even if there was another woman at his side during all of it.

"I want you to be happy," I breathed, trying to keep my voice from shaking as the tremors took my body. The idea of him with another person almost knocked the breath out of me.

"Then why are you pushing me away?"

"Because you don't want me."

Edward let go of my hand and moved so he was sitting on the bed next to me, his arm propping him up on the other side of my body, his other hand cupping my cheek.

"You're it, Bella. There is no one else for me. It's you, it's always been you," he answered, looking directly into my eyes. The truth I found there was beyond my wildest imagination—then again dreams had a tendency to do that.

"Those photos, the ones in Maxim that Chris took, they were supposed to be private, I was going to give them to you for your birthday," I informed.

"Baby, you don't owe me any explan—"

"Yes, I do. I did this. I ruined us. I messed this all up."

"Bella, it takes two people to create a mess of this magnitude. If I hadn't put work first, had I just spent more time with you, turned the cell phone off more often, stayed when you asked me to, none of this would have happened. I lost sight of what was important and started taking you for granted."

"But—"

"No buts. Bella, I love you. I've always loved you. I'm just an idiot and screwed everything up so thoroughly," he insisted. "Baby, I'm never leaving you again. Ever."

I tried to sit up so I could kiss him. I needed to feel his lips on mine to make sure I wasn't dreaming. All of this was too good to be true. There was no way my life could turn around and Edward would be here with me—not after everything I'd done to screw us up.

"Bella, how could you believe for one moment I wanted to call off the wedding? After the million times I've told you, I love you. How could you let one statement break your faith in me?"

I didn't answer, I was too shocked to form a rational response.

"I could see it in your eyes, last night at the club. You honestly believed I didn't want you anymore. The most absurd, ridiculous concept—as if there were any way that I could exist without needing you."

I was still frozen. His words were incomprehensible, because they were impossible. All of it was impossible. I saw who he was with last night; the strawberry blonde on his arm was beautiful beyond imagination. I was no match to such beauty, I knew this, and I was a realist. There was never reason for him to love me.

"Bella, really, what were you thinking!" he demanded. I felt my eyes fill with tears at the reality—or non-reality of the issue since I was still pretty sure I was dreaming, in some form of the word.

"Edward, it doesn't make sense," I explained. His eyebrows furrowed in question. "It never made sense for you to love me. GAH! I knew I was dreaming! Just leave, please wake me up, I can't do this anymore!"

"You're impossible," Edward said, and laughed a frustrated strained laugh. "How can I put this so you will believe me? You're not asleep, and you're not dead. I'm here, and I love you. I have always loved you, and I will always love you."

I shook my head, trying to wake myself up so I wouldn't have to put myself through even worse torture when I awoke and he wasn't there. Whatever James put in that last syringe had one hell of a hallucinogen in it. Mental note, find out what it was.

Edward's eyes tightened, his mouth closing in a tight line. "You still think you're asleep, don't you?"

My mouth opened on its own accord and closed without words being spoken. After it happened a few times I pictured my head as a dead fish, opening and closing repeatedly all the while not getting anywhere with the action.

"I'll prove you're not asleep," he promised.

"I'm past thinking I'm asleep. James must have put some kind of hallucinogen in the last injection he gave me. That's the only explanation for any of this," I offered.

I felt his hands tighten at the mention of either James or the drugs. Either way, his body went rigid and cold.

"Then I'll prove you're truly awake, and I'm really here." Edward caught my face in his hands, ignoring my struggles when I tried to turn my head.

"Please don't," I whispered brokenly.

He stopped, his lips only an inch away from mine. His eyes smoldered into mine flashing a million different questions.

"Why not?"

"Because when you leave again…When I wake up… Edward, I can't do this. It's going to be hard enough without feeling your lips." My eyes zoned in on his lips, silently pleading him not to listen to me. I wanted to feel their sweet poison, and taste him on my tongue.

"Bella, I need to know...you haven't…James isn't…you haven't moved on have you?" he finally spit out.

"What kind of idiotic question is that?" I screeched to the best of my ability. "The way I feel about you will never change. Of course I love you—and there's nothing you can do about it. You're it for me, Edward, you're—"

"That's all I needed to hear," he whispered before his mouth was on mine. I couldn't fight him. Not because he was so much stronger than I was, but because my will crumbled to dust the second our lips met. This kiss was not like any of the others we shared. It was deeper, searching, begging, and yearning, almost as if he were trying to repair us as quickly as possible. Each emotion either of us had felt over the past several weeks was thrown into this devouring, all encompassing kiss.

If I was going to rip myself up further, I might as well get as much in trade as possible. My heart began pounding a jagged, disjointed rhythm while my breathing turned to panting, my lips gave way to some of the most embarrassing sounds. But I couldn't find it in me to care. My fingers moved greedily into his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. I was so glad he hadn't listened to me, there was no pain in the world that would have justified missing this.

Between the moments when our lips were free, his voice whispered my name before recapturing my lips with his once more. His soft hands searched my face, memorizing every facet of it, all the while pulling me closer to him.

When he pulled away, he looked directly into my eyes and stated, "By the way, I'm not leaving you."

I didn't say anything, I couldn't. My heart wanted to believe his words, but my head wouldn't allow it to go that far.

As if he could hear my thoughts Edward responded, "I'm not going anywhere. Not without you."

Our conversation came to an abrupt halt when both of us jumped as the door swung open and smashed into the wall with a loud crash.

"Get your ass away from my daughter," Charlie growled, papa bear was out and ready to fight.

Our eyes locked immediately. I felt my eyes widen and fill with tears as I watched the internal fight erupt within him. I shook my head fiercely, trying to convince him otherwise.

"Don't," I begged. My voice came as hardly a whisper. "Don't leave me again. Please, Edward." I clutched onto him with all my strength, which wasn't much, and held onto him, pleading with him not to go.

"Bella, he left you once. He hurt you. What's to say he won't do it again?" Charlie insisted.

"I'll come back later," Edward whispered, reaching up to cup my face.

"No, don't leave me," I cried, holding onto his hand. My breaths began to come in short, shallow gasps. I had to let go of his hand so I could grab at my chest as it began to tighten and ache with the raw breaths that came in. "You…can't…leave…me…" I gasped between sharp intakes. I noticed as my fingers and toes began to tingle in a sleep like state, my eyes took on a sort of tunnel vision and my lips grew numb. All these sensations only added to my panic. I'd never had a panic attack, I never knew the strength they held, or the power they consumed over your body. I felt ill, my stomach wanted to lurch and rid my body of whatever vile substance was within it, but there was nothing to dispel. The last time I could remember consuming anything was two days ago.

"Bella, you need to calm down, Love," Edward soothed. He pulled me forward so I could place my head between my legs as he rubbed soothing circles on my back. I heard, rather than saw, him hit the nurse call button and bark orders through the speaker.

"You see what you do to her?" Charlie demanded just as a few nurses came in.

"Doctor Masen, what do you want us to do?"

"Bella, do you think you can calm down for me?" Edward asked softly.

I nodded but clung to him, begging him silently not to leave. "When was the last time you gave her some subutex?"

"When she came in," the nurse answered. I shook my head.

"Just don't leave me and I'll be fine," I answered between gasping breaths.

"Doctor Masen, if her heart rate doesn't decrease we will have to sedate her."

"I'm fully aware of that," Edward growled. "Give her two point five of diazepam."

"No, no medicine!" I groaned. My breaths were coming easier but my heart was still speeding in the fear of Edward leaving me again. When I thought I was finally gaining control of my attack, my lungs constricted and caused me to start coughing, choking on the air I inhaled. Edward grabbed me by my upper arms and helped me turn to my side, relieving some of the tension on my left lung.

I felt the medication enter my veins, its calming influence pulling me to a happy median. I was out of it to the point where I was mellow, my world going soft around the edges, but still aware of my surroundings. When I was finally able to capture breath Edward helped me sit up, he propped me up on some pillows and smoothed my hair down.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked, before looking over at the heart monitor and pushing a few buttons.

"You're not leaving, right?" I asked, still nervous, my fingers tightening around his hand, hoping to keep him rooted to my bed.

"No, Love, I'm not going anywhere," he reassured. "Carmen, can you get me my stethoscope? I want to listen to her lungs."

Carmen nodded and left the room after muttering something about getting another doctor. Once the nurse was gone, Charlie made his presence known again, only this time silently. He stood at the foot of my bed, arms crossed, foot tapping.

"Charlie, we will discuss this after I make sure Bella is okay, and we will take it out in the hall, I don't want her reacting like that again," Edward insisted. I recognized this tone of voice, he was in doctor mode. His voice became deeper, more authoritative when he was solving some medical issue. Some would call the change professional, I called it fake. The voice I heard with Edward was his real voice. The soft, gentle, velvet sounds and pitches he claimed that always comforted me—that was the real Edward, _my _Edward, the one that didn't need to pretend, or be anything other than who he was. Charlie's eyebrows shot up in question, obviously not happy about the more dominant stance Edward had immediately taken.

"What and I do?" Charlie asked incredulously. Papa bear was on the full rampage, and ready to attack. "Look, I just want her taken care of. Obviously, I can't trust you to do that. I left her with you and you left her to die."

"Dad, it's my fault," I gasped, my voice hoarse from the coughing. "I almost cheated, I chose to take the drugs, I chose not to call back when Edward tried to get a hold of me. It's my fault, not his."

"Bella, I'm to blame just as much as you think you are," Edward insisted, but I shook my head to interrupt.

Carmen returned to the room with Edward's stethoscope and a tall, olive skinned man in a while coat.

"Doctor Eleazar," Edward greeted before he put the ear plugs in and raised the flat end of the scope to my chest. "Love, I need you to take a deep breath and exhale all the air. Do it several times until I ask you to stop, okay?"

I nodded and did as instructed.

"What did you take?" Edward asked after a few minutes of listening to my lungs.

I didn't want to admit everything I had done last night…if it was last night. I was ashamed of everything that had transpired.

"Bella, I need to know. What did you take? The labs won't be in for a little while longer, and if need be, I can look at those, but it would be much more beneficial if you just told me."

Feeling his eyes bearing into me I looked up at my father only to find disappointment looking back. The tears welled up and I felt my body start to shake.

"Daddy, I'm so sorry," I whispered.

"Isabella Marie, just answer the man. What did you take?" Obviously, I was going to have to answer whether it took all the self-respect I had or not, although I really had none left so what difference did it make now. I wish I could just not and say I did.

I closed my eyes tightly and replayed everything that happened in the limo and back at Lauren's house that was drug related, making sure to inform them that I didn't know what was in the pipe I inhaled, only what I was told, along with me not knowing what was injected before I passed out.

"How many times did you shoot up?" Edward asked. I kept my eyes diverted, not being able to look at him.

"When? Yesterday?"

"Yeah," he answered, taking my hand.

"I only remember twice. Once when it was just Lauren and I at the house and again when James forced me to after we hung up. I don't remember though, there might have been a few times before then. I don't remember much after we walked through Lauren's front door and me calling Emmett than from that point until I woke up. I vaguely remember calling 9-1-1 and watching Lauren seize." I paused for a moment, the images shooting through my mind like a picture show. "She died, didn't she?" I whispered, afraid of the truth.

"Bella, Lauren had been a user for a long time, we won't know what finally killed her until they run the autopsy, but it's safe to say she took more than you did."

"I know she did. She did double the coke I did. She took the full dose James gave her, plus the half that I didn't want of mine."

Tears flooded my eyes once again as the reality of the situation fully sat on my chest. It could have easily been me down in the city morgue. If I would have finished the hit, had I taken more of what James wanted to offer, it could have been me seizing right along next to her. All of the ramifications began building up. Had I died I wouldn't be here with Edward trying to make things better. My life would still be falling apart around me and I would have left both him and my father to clean up my mess.

The headlines ran through my mind, "Chief of Police, Charlie Swan's, daughter found dead from drug overdose." Everyone would have questioned his ability to do his job if his own daughter could get away with abusing illegal substances without his knowledge. Single handedly I sacrificed everything, ruined everything, all for nothing.

"Love, you need to sleep. I need you to keep your strength so you can get better faster. I'll wake you up in a few hours and give you more medication. Until then, rest."

"You'll still be here when I wake up?" I asked, not believing it. Why would he stay with me? He got what he wanted—he knows I'm okay, why would he want anymore? He's the one who called off the wedding, he's the one who left. Not that I could blame him, nor would I. No matter how hard I tried to push past these issues, my mind kept conjuring them back up, bringing them to the forefront, and causing my heart to ache all the more.

"I swear." He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. "Baby, I meant what I said; I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want us to get married, have a family with a house, and yard. You're the only one I've ever seen all of those things with. You're it for me. There's no one else I could ever want. You're my life now."

Him leaving me again was quickly becoming my greatest fear, and I knew if he ever left again, my life would be over. There was no question about it. I wouldn't be able to survive what I went through again, I couldn't take that devastation. My shattered heart would stop beating long before I took my own life, I would just be helping us for the future by ending the pain early. Because without him, I had nothing—I wanted nothing.

On impulse, I looked up at Edward and told him the truth. "I got high because it was the only way I could keep you with me. You were always there holding my hand when I was afraid, or telling me I was stupid as I did it. For a few minutes, if felt as if I hadn't screwed us up. Please, tell me I haven't lost you for forever?"

Edward took my hand and held it tightly, carefully bringing it to his lips. His eyes bore into mine, looking straight into my soul. "I should be the one asking you that. Bella, will you still have me? Have I screwed up too much?"

His thought process still baffled my mind. How he could think this was his fault was beyond me. My choices led to me ending up with a needle in my arm.

I knew his heart. Edward would never allow me to take the blame for what I did. He would argue this to be a moot point and offer to agree to disagree. Only, I wasn't strong enough to argue with him over it. I wanted to—trust me I did, but the more we argued the more wore out my mind and body became. This would just have to be another argument for another day.

Because, I was Bella Swan, lifelong screw up.

* * *

**EN::::** Please leave your thoughts, did you like it, hate it, not live up to your expectations? What do you think is coming next for the couple? Is Edward living up to your expectations and redeeming himself? What do you think of Charlie? He's my favorite character in the movies so I thought I'd bring a little piece of Billy Burke's character to the page.

If you haven't looked, but want a face to place with the person, there are pictures of each of the characters up on my profile.

PS. I just added a bunch of fics to my fav list...go check them out too!


	12. Strong Enough to Break

Thank you to everyone who updated, I hope you liked your early update! Ya'll keep my heart beating!

Thank you to Gee, K, and VPJ for your support.

I hope everyone had a good Thanksgiving!

Disclaimer. I don't own the characters, only the plot.

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_Chapter Eleven: Strong Enough to Break_  
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I'm not sure how long we all sat there, deadpanned. Both Edward and I were afraid to open our mouths to say something in front of my dad. It wasn't his business what was going on between us, and I wasn't about to allow him in on that part of my life. However, at the same time, Edward's eyes showed so much pain. Every time he looked at me, I saw the sadness etched in his soul, the guilt riding his every emotion, eating away at his resolve. With every flicker of his emotions, I felt a rollercoaster shoot off and spiral out of control within myself. I guess this was what they were talking about when they called it an emotional rollercoaster. The loop-de-loops were making me nauseous, and the backward plummets were giving me whiplash.

With everything I had, I fought the urge to tell them I needed more medicine. As much as it pained me, I wasn't ready to admit out loud, to them, that I was an addict. Before this moment, I hadn't realized you could become addicted to something so fast, apparently with heroin, it only takes one time. That was the kicker, I hadn't come down from a high since the night Edward left—three and a half weeks ago!

Eventually, Rose and Emmett joined our sordid affair and attempted to bring some comedic relief to the bunch, but failed miserably when Charlie grumbled for Emmett to "Shut the fuck up." Yes, Charlie was cussing, which was a pure indicator that he was disgusted and ready to bail, or kick some ass. The unfortunate part was I knew who's ass he wanted it to be, and I deserved it more than Edward did. He just couldn't accept that his little innocent Isabella made the decision to fuck her own life into crushed pieces of nothingness. At this point, it was beyond shattered into oblivion.

Sure, Edward said he would stay, for now. I wanted to believe him. I honestly did, but I couldn't. After your trust is harmed in such a way, it's impossible to get it back with no effort—not that I was without fault in any of this mess, but I had trust issues nonetheless. The shrink's words from a past life came to haunt me, "Bella, if you don't talk to me about your parent's separation now, it may ruin future relationships. You need to learn that relationships can last now, before it's too late and you end up divorced yourself one day." Well Doctor Greene, I'm not divorced, but now I wish I had listened to you when I was thirteen.

Every few minutes my eyes would flicker between the both of them before finding their way back to the ceiling. It was safer there. Every time my eyes would cast in my father's direction, he would open his mouth as if to say something, but chose otherwise at the last moment. Thank god, because I was in no need to hear whatever he had to say.

Edward, on the other hand, just looked at me calmly, holding my hand, his thumb gently brushing the back of my hand. His eyes held concern and love I didn't deserve. Where did the man find his tenacity, anyone else would have given up already? As much as I wanted to tell him as such, it was impossible. The thought of Edward walking out that door devastated my heart and crippled me beyond compare. I needed him more than ever, and I wasn't strong enough to break just yet.

The two most important men in my life were at complete odds with each other, and without knowing it, with me. I laid here with my life on display before them, bearing their scrutiny, only they were blaming the wrong person for my mistakes. Edward wasn't at fault for my decisions, I fully knew what I was getting myself into. I knew that heroin was highly addictive going into this, and I knew the consequences of using an illegal substance. I just chose not to care.

What they both failed to realize was that if I could take it all back, I wouldn't—rather, I couldn't. The decision to start heroin got me here, with Edward at my side. Were they reckless and tasteless decisions? Yes, but he was still here beside me, vowing not to leave. In addition to being reckless, my motives were also callous, stupid, and hurtful of those around me (I guess that one should be titled selfish). If I were honestly thinking about anyone other than myself, the situation would have played out entirely different, or rather, never happened in the first place. I would have stayed home that night, never gone out, and ended up in bed with some random drunk, Edward would have never left, I would have never turned to drugs, and we would be on the fast track to getting married in two and a half months.

Way to screw everything up, huh?

Edward cleared his throat to get my attention as the nurse came in and began talking to me. I looked at him momentarily before looking in the direction of where he was bobbing his head.

"So, Isabella, how are you feeling? Are you having any cravings?"

The truthful answer would have been, yes, now give me the good stuff. But I knew I couldn't say that with Edward and my father sitting so closely. They were already pained enough, I didn't need to add to it. Out of respect, I shook my head and looked away, forcing my gaze to the window so I could watch the now setting sun.

An entire day had gone by in complete silence—a whole twelve hours of me waiting for someone to start yelling and cursing me for my actions and faults, yet that moment never came. Then again, why would I expect it to? Both men blamed Edward. Both men saw me as an innocent victim of crimes put in motion by the one man I needed more than anything in the world.

I don't know how long I sat there watching the sun set behind the horizon, the hues meeting and mixing in the sky creating colors only brought to life at twilight. Some thought twilight was the saddest part of the day, they saw it as the end of another day, the time of uncertainty and obscurity, in truth, it was only the beginning. Tomorrow when the sun rose, I could start all over. Tomorrow I could be a different person, forget about the insufferable human being I am right now, and rewrite my next few pages. After all, what was life if not a story, one you write and dream up, imagine into creation, mold and create the ending you wish. I just wish my story wouldn't be passed on to following generations. I wish my story would be able to die with me, but that will be forever impossible now.

When the sun had completely set I closed my eyes and allowed my breathing to even out, paying attention to my heartbeat as to make Edward and my father believe I had fallen asleep. It was sadistic, but I needed to know what they would do if they thought I wasn't paying attention. Half of me expected Edward to get up and go, to never return, while the rational, trusting majority of my heart insisted he wouldn't leave me again.

The other half, wanted to hear what my father had to say so I could counter it all once I 'woke up.' It was stupid and irrational, but I didn't know what else to do. Sitting here just looking at each other and the inanimate objects in this room was causing my cravings to be worse than I could have ever imagined. To top that off, the silence was hurting my ears. I found myself straining to hear something that wasn't really there. I was waiting to hear the last pin to drop, or anticipating to hear the fat lady sing to indicate this was all over. Nothing came, and so I was forced to my own devices.

"Edward, I think we need to talk about this," my father whispered, his voice threatening and cold.

I could hear Edward shuffle in his seat, trying to get comfortable under my father's scrutiny. "I can't leave her Charlie. What if she wakes up?"

"It's Chief Swan to you boy."

"Just so you are prepared, I fully intend on asking her if she will still have me. The wedding will be postponed, so we can work things out, but I will ask her to take my hand." It was hard to keep the smile from my lips, but somehow I managed. "I'm not living without her again Chief Swan. We did it once, and it nearly killed the both of us." My interest was piqued. Yes, this almost killed me, obviously, I was lying in a hospital bed coming down from a mess of drugs, but how had it almost killed him?

"I doubt that," Charlie grumbled. I heard the legs of his chair protest against the hard tile of the floor.

Edward's thumb caressed the back of my hand again as his other hand clasped my wrist, feeling my pulse point with two of his fingers. His talking slowed down. "As long as her heart is beating so is mine, the moment hers stops, my life ceases to exist. I've put a lot of thought into contingency plans, and I will not live without her again Charlie."

The utter sadness in Edward's voice pulled the air from me, and caused my heart to skip a beat. Edward's hand was on my cheek, lightly stroking away the silent tears I didn't know I was crying. The thought of a world without Edward was my breaking point. As far as I could tell, my sleeping façade was still strong; both parties assumed I was only having a bad dream.

"I love her more than life, and I will give mine in an instant for her," Edward whispered, his fingers still brushing my cheek lovingly. The tenderness in his voice brought more tears but I fought them and I tried in vain to fight them, but the sob erupted without permission. "Shh, Bella, it's okay, I'm here. No one's going to hurt you." I reached up and took his hand as I opened my eyes and looked at him.

"Hold me?" I plead quietly. He nodded so I moved over slightly, giving him room to lie on his back. Once he was comfortable, I molded myself to his side, wrapping my non-IV ridden arm around his waist.

Silence filled the room. Obviously, Charlie didn't feel like having the conversation they were having while I was listening in. In that moment, none of that mattered. My hearing zoned in and listened to Edward's steady heartbeat, memorizing the feel of the soft bump from his chest, and the beautiful sound it made. His chest held my life-line.

Visions of Patrick Swazye holding Baby's hand over his heart whispering, "Ga-gong. Ga-gong," kept reverberating through my mind. The sentiment was so beautiful, he was essentially telling her to follow his heart, and for the first time I got it. I had to follow Edward's heart, my heart, in order to make it in this life. What they told us, what they showed us was all that mattered.

With that sound, I fell into the first peaceful sleep I had had since this mess began.

A week after, several Subutex and Methadone treatments, withdrawal symptoms, and mood swings later they released me from the hospital. If it were up to Edward, I think I would still be there, but thankfully, I had grown good at hiding the cravings—or at least better. When I wanted to say something particularly snarky I bit the inside of my cheek, when I wanted to cry I pictured my father's face turning purple when he walked in on Edward and I kissing.

However, the moment I stepped through the door of our house, I knew the baby steps in the hospital were just that, baby steps. Here, at home, I now not only had to work through my dependency issues, but also everything that happened here, all the memories of shooting up on the sofa, the visions of hooking up with James. The second the front door closed, I turned harshly and hid my face in Edward's chest, breathing in deeply and trying to find his heartbeat.

"Love, it's alright, I'm here. We are going to get through this." His right hand found the back of my head in an instant as he lovingly smoothed down my hair and held me to him.

"It's too much, I can't be here," I sobbed, clasping onto his shirt tightly.

"What's wrong?" he asked. I felt his left arm tighten around my back while his body shifted and his right arm came up under my knees, lifting me bridal style.

"H-h-he was h-h-here," I stuttered, tears spilling profusely down my face and onto his exposed neck.

"Bella, who was here?" my father asked.

"James," I whispered hoarsely. I knew they knew who he was, I had explained a little about him while we were still in the hospital, right after the rape kit came back positive. Thank God, I don't remember the specifics of that, that's all I needed was one more bag to add to the train full of luggage I already had procured.

I could feel Edward's arms tighten around me, bringing me closer to his body. "Where was he in our house?"

"The guest room and living room. No one was allowed in our bedroom," I mused, making sure to reaffirm I was serious about us working this out. I didn't need him thinking I was going to make the same mistake. After the ill-fated night, I made sure the door to our bedroom remained locked unless I wanted to go in there and throw myself a pity party.

Without another word, Edward was on the move, he carried me up the stairs, and down the hall, leading me to our locked bedroom door. "Keys above the frame," I informed, reaching up, and grabbing it so we could enter. I hadn't noticed my father following us until he cleared his throat when Edward went to take me inside. We both looked back at him, only for Edward to deliberately take me through the threshold and lay me down on our bed, my arms still tightly wound around his neck, keeping him close. Why my father was having a problem with Edward being this close to me, I had no idea, but I wasn't going to let him take away the one thing I sought comfort in.

Since the first day at the hospital, Edward hadn't been more than a few feet away from me unless I was in therapy, or one of us were using the restroom. I clung to him in my sleep, and held onto him while awake as if my life depended on it. To my amazement, he never complained, he seemed as though he needed the contact just as much as I did. Jasper, Rose, and Emmett were just as bad as Edward; if they weren't at work, they were with me, and if they were with me, they were sitting on the edge of the bed or laying next to me if Edward got up for even a moment. They were the support I needed all along, but wasn't smart enough to go looking for when I needed them.

Emmett was worst of all. He explained that he kept running through the last phone conversation in his head, hearing me give up and telling him, I wanted to die. To top matters off, he was also the one who found me in the parking lot, so he had seen me worse for wear. Of all four of them, he had seen the worst of everything.

Rose had been dealing with everything her own way, trying to get me my contract back—which I did not want. The last thing I needed right now was more criticism and publicity. All I wanted was to lay back and spend time with Edward, work on us, and try to get better. According to my father, the latter was supposed to be the most important, but for me, the three coincided equally. There was no getting better without Edward, and we could not be together if we didn't work things out—see, hand in hand.

Jasper was, well Jasper. He was calm and soothing through the whole thing, keeping Rose under wraps, trying to comfort Emmett and me, being there for Edward, and keeping my dad and Edward separated as much as possible. He was the reason they even had a semblance of a relationship going on right now.

My father and I talked about what happened, which helped him back off Edward a little more. I think his major issue was the fact that Edward knew something was going on with me, and he never called to tell him anything. Apparently, Charlie had called Edward several times trying to find out what was true, why I was bruised, and with questions regarding all of the media coverage, and Edward kept telling him that everything was fine, there was nothing to worry about, just bad shots. Then again, bad shots was right. He informed me that it wasn't that he didn't blame me, it was that he knew me well enough to know that I was feeling guilty enough for everyone at the moment, so his hostility would wait and surface later. Right now, Edward was his outlet, and no matter how I tried to convince him otherwise, it didn't look like that was going to be changing any time soon.

Edward and I decided to drop the whole, guy-in-the-bed thing since technically it wasn't my fault that I was drugged. We decided that the whole photo shoot was a miscommunication and that he needed to trust me more, and collectively discussed that he would try to work less hours, and spend more time with me. We'd lost the basic fundamentals of what our relationship was based on, trust and communication. Now, it was time to find it, and gain it all back. Easier said than done.

It helped that while I was under the influence Mike came forward and explained that his friends thought it would be funny if they drugged me to see how far I would allow him to go. Apparently, sex with a model was a big enough deal that they didn't care about the ramifications. They just hadn't expected Mike to take a sip of my Sex on the Beach. What was meant to be an experiment, turned into jail time at the hands of my father, and at the insistence of Edward.

The only saving grace throughout all of this was, the fact that my father had derailed my mother from coming to see me. She was the one person I was not capable of seeing at this point. I could deal with everyone's anger, or concern, but a blubbering mess was something that would push me over the edge. It was getting to the point that I was having people cover for me, telling her I was asleep whenever she'd call. Every lie was only more baggage to my guilt, and more weight to all the lies that had already been spilled.

The first night home was the easiest, I still had a lot of the Subutex in my system so the withdrawals were minimal—nothing I couldn't contain. Edward and I slept soundly in our bed, holding fast to each other. That night was dreamless.

Day two was more difficult. Edward decided I needed to work on venturing out into the rest of the house, insisting I needed to get out of my comfort zone a little, to become re-acclimated with our home. I think it bothered him that I still was calling it a house, and not a home, but it wouldn't be a home until we could for sure work on us, and fix us into what we used to be, but stronger. What Edward failed to realize was that, in his arms was home…this building was only a structure. It was empty and void of anything without him. He was my home, nothing else mattered.

Upon leaving the room, I felt like one of those cats you see on America's Funniest Home Videos… you know the one who is being dragged into the bathroom for a bath—yeah, the cat who is clawing at the doorframe, trying everything within its power to stay in the comfort zone. Needless to say, three broken nails, a bump on the head, and a stubbed toe later I was venturing out into the hall with each Charlie and Edward clinging to one arm, assisting me down the hallway. The dragging was my father's idea. I knew I inherited my stubbornness somewhere, I'd only never seen it this magnified. Regardless, he was determined to have me get over this hurdle, even if he had to drop me, and hog tie me.

Finally, after I started screaming at the head of the stairs Edward put an end to the insistence and told Charlie that he wasn't going to stand by and allow this any longer, and if he couldn't respect that, than he was no longer welcome in our home. I think once he took a step back and realized what he was doing was wrong, Charlie respected Edward just a little for his protectiveness.

As the day wore on, the worse the panic attacks became, which caused my need to grow more intense. The tears were endless, even Edward wasn't enough to hold off any of the cravings. Subconsciously, I picked at my hand with my fingernails, scratched at my arm idly, and rocked without even realizing it. All the signs of a serious addict were there, and it had only been three days.

My mind was reeling, telling me that this is what I deserved for trying to compensate one addiction for another. Essentially, that's exactly what I did; I traded Edward for the heroin—not a good replacement by any means, but it worked. Now I found myself trying to go back to the gateway drug of choice, but the need for more was too strong.

By day three, Edward and my father were at their wits end with me. I completely evaded sleep all night. I laid awake crying because I couldn't stop itching, begging, and cursing. I was itching for drugs, begging for drugs, and cursing because they wouldn't give me the drugs. I don't remember everything that was said, but I'm pretty sure I cursed the day I met Edward, told him I hated him, and that I wish he were never born. After that, I moved onto more practical things, such as, I wanted to die, I wish I were never born, and I hated my father for bringing me into existence. Yes, idiot central, come and take me away.

On day four, I heard murmured talks of rehab, and that I needed more help than Edward could provide. In his defense, he did stand by me, telling my father to jump into a lake and go fuck himself. A brave act talking to a man, carrying a gun. It was a true testament to everything he had told me as of late, he wanted to try, and he was going to help me progress through this…I was just beginning to lose faith that he actually could.

At some point that day, Edward confronted me about a notebook he found with letters I had written while stoned. Each letter was apparently addressed to him, describing to him how much I loved him, why I did what I did, and how I needed him like a drug to survive. The last letter, written the day of the modeling escapade, I wrote about how I didn't want to live anymore because I knew he wasn't coming back. I wrote—in detail—of my plans to 'off myself' as he so eloquently put it.

His face when he told me will be one I will never forget. Edward's eyes were red rimmed, glassy from crying, his nose a little red around the edges from wiping. He looked so defeated and guilty, like a child who just ruined his mother's favorite flower bed. Although the looks alone were enough to kill, it was his voice that did me in. Listening to him so broken, so upset, shattered my heart into oblivion. I did this to him—this was my fault. All of it. Every broken heart, every tear that this poor man has cried, it's all on my shoulders, and I'm left with nothing to fix it. I used to have the tools to fix his aching heart, but now I'm using all the glue I used to have to hold myself in some semblance of together. I couldn't fix him when I was too broken myself.

That night, the cold sweats started—the ones that the doctors and nurses assured Edward wouldn't happen because of the Subutex. Apparently, I was an anomaly of sorts, but then again, we don't know what the H was laced with, and if Subutex could even help whatever I was addicted to. The Methadone only made it worse, causing hallucinations, a horrible runny nose, and I was beyond irritable. In whole, I was unable to keep anything down, liquids were even a bear, causing Edward to rush to the hospital, pick up an IV and hook me up in our bedroom. He was doing everything in his power to keep me home with him, but with every effort came another downhill spiral.

After we cured the nausea, the cramping and _other_ issues began, which lead to Edward having to take the IV out since I was now running to the bathroom to empty other contents—which he attributed to the flushing of the fluids. This all lead to me begging him to just take me somewhere by the end of day five. I had given up. I was worse for wear and falling apart at every end, corner, and digit. I was starving, but not hungry, my head was pounding, my body sweating profusely, but I was freezing. I was a walking conundrum and I could do nothing about it.

What I felt before was nothing compared to this. At this point, I preferred death to spending the rest of my life with Edward. I wanted death because at least then I would stop puking stomach acid and sharting my fucking intestines out.

Finally, at two in the morning day six, Edward caved and agreed with my father, it was time to get me more help than what either of them could offer. When he surrendered, I felt everything leave my body and the guilt multiply. My actions were slowly and silently killing the man I loved, to the point where the strongest person I knew was crumbling right before my eyes. I caused this—I did this to him. And just like that my needs for the drug multiplied tenfold.

I then, in that moment, officially became Bella Swan, Rehab inductee.

***Sharting is a term I learned off a very adorable five-year-old named Sophie, and was explained (in a massive amount of giggles) that it's what happens when you fart and shit at the same time… most typically in your pants. Her mother's boyfriend was red-faced and hiding by the time I left.

****some of you started this story with really negative feelings of Edward, how have those changed...or have they changed?

Reviews will get something special.

Next update will be next Sunday. Sorry for the delay I'm working solo this week and that's my next day off.


	13. Alterations

A Note From Your Author: Parts of this chapter will be glazed over, names have been changed, and situations have been reworked as to not give any of my co-lock ups away. Identity is something to be sacred, and I will never offer anything other than complete decency to anyone that suffered through this with me. To the chain-gang, I offer my complete thanks and adoration for your help through the most difficult situation I have survived through. You all have been my saving grace, and I love you each in your own special way. Ali, I can't imagine my life without you. Thank you.

- Bella

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_Chapter Twelve: Alterations_  
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Most instances, the moment the word rehab comes into conversation, some idiot out there starts singing the Amy Winehouse song silently and without a second thought. "They tried to make me to go to rehab I said no, no, no." If only it were that simple.

Any dictionary will tell you that the word rehab means to rehabilitate, to restore to a condition of good health. Alice viewed it as her alteration seminar, and often called it "Alice, Rendition four, take one." (Yes, this was her fourth go around, and as we all prayed, it to be her last).

Rehab. Two syllables, five letters, easy spelling, simple word. Right?

Wrong.

Most curse words are considered to be, 'four letter words,' but let me be the first to tell you, five letter words are the worst. Seriously, you can call a girl a slut and most of the time they look the other way. Call that same girl a bitch and you'll be slapped. Rehab is one of those words. Among addicts, the ultimate curse word is not to be used lightly, and is often times frowned upon. You call a drinker an alcoholic, and often times their response will be, 'I can't be, I don't go to meetings.' It works the same for an addict. You can't be labeled an addict until you go to rehab.

Another thing you quickly learn is that places titled Paradise or Promises or some other up and coming romantic name in the title is a pure farce. Edward and my father traveled, interviewed, searched, and asked doctors Edward knew about where to take me for _real_ treatment, before deciding outpatient care would be the best thing for me.

Many might ask why take the outpatient approach when I was so far under, but their reasoning was so I could get more help than what a center could offer. In addition to going to rehab, my father insisted I enter counseling to take care of my Edward-dependence issue, and even some child behavioral development counseling. I didn't quite get the last one either, until my first meeting and we started talking about how my mother's abandonment of my father and I affected me, at which point my dependency on Edward made perfect sense. Turns out, I had major mommy issues.

Even if that were the case, this is my fault, not hers. I couldn't blame the lack of time spent with my mother for my issues. I chose this, she just didn't help my inner-child. I was a grown woman and I was my own responsibility. Mommy couldn't look after me anymore, not that she ever had.

At the beginning of our relationship, Edward constantly asked me questions about my mom, why I hardly spoke of her, why I didn't have stories to tell. The answer was simple. She abandoned my father and I—there were no stories. There was nothing to tell. The only option was to move on and pay attention to the real issues. My issues that didn't involve the lack of a mother.

Upon entering the gates of Clear View Treatment Center, I knew my life was about to change forever. The omen just hung in the air like a musty scent that filled your nostrils and refused to leave. I smelt death and foreboding in the too-clean serenity room while Edward and I watched the chant and exuberance of the counselor telling everyone around her that peace came from within.

Immediately, my eyes zoned in to Edwards, asking him a silent question of, _Really, you're going to make me do this?_ I was by no means a hippy, I didn't believe that woo-saw shit, or that humming cured anything, and I would not be burning incense to try to cure my dependence. I needed more than the 'peace that came from within' to cure my addiction. I simply wasn't that girl.

Edward only shrugged and rubbed my back in a reassuring manor. I knew he was going to be there for me every step of the way, but it didn't make this first step any easier. I felt his breath before I saw him lean into me. "Love, I'll be here every step of the way, and if this doesn't work, we'll find something else. I'm not leaving your side."

"You must be Bella! I'm so happy you're here. I'm Alice, and we're going to be best friends," a little black haired girl cheered as she ran to me and came to a complete stop at my feet. "We've been expecting you since this morning!" I cringed at the knowledge that everyone knew I was coming.

"Don't worry, we are all really good at keeping secrets, we have to be, otherwise all of our secrets would be public," Alice reassured. I nodded slightly, not fully convinced. As if sensing my second-guessing nature she pointed to a man standing in the corner across the room. My eyes quickly registered his celebrity status, and nodded slightly. It quickly grew apparent from looking around the room a little more that I was hardly the biggest name in the joint.

I hated thinking of myself that way—a big namer. Me, Isabella Swan, a celebrity. Ha! But the media had made me one in the time I had most wished for it to ignore me. I was sought after, wanted, reported on—I was the next big thing on the tabloids. A second look would have quickly told me that it was only because Britney wasn't doing anything scandalous, Sandra's divorce had already been finalized, Jon and Kate had broken the eight, and I was about the best they could do for two-bit-back-door-news. Moreover, I had a large group of (cough) gentlemen following my every photo shoot move, hoping for yet another scandalous showing.

Quietly, I took in Alice. She was maybe five foot, definitely more than a few inches shorter than I was. She sculpted her hair into a mass chaos of long black spikes that curled at the ends just below her ear. Her pale skin gave way to a pair of the brightest turquoise-green eyes I had ever seen, they were almost a bright, mossy green mixed with shades of yellow and hues of blue. Beyond words, she was stunning, and dressed to the nines. Rose would be envious of the "kicks" she was sporting. That's right, the impeccably dressed sprite was wearing a brown pair of cowboy boots with teal trimming and threading. They looked like something straight off of a CMT video set. I'd bet anything Laura Belle Bundy was missing her kicks right about now. Then again, she may just tell Alice to go ahead and "Giddy on up and giddy on out."

Internally, I had to giggle a bit at my inside joke. Since seeing Legally Blonde on Broadway, Rose and I both had a hard time seeing Elle Woods start up and star in her very own Country album, but then again, I never thought I'd be playing the inmate of a crisis center either. I guess the unimaginable happens more than we ever think possible.

Shaking my head, I tuned back into my surroundings, cursing myself for thinking of such stupid gossip while there were more important things at hand. Looking around, I forgot what I was even thinking about before I was distracted. That "side effect" began happening more frequently as the days passed. I'd be having a conversation with Edward only to lose track of where we were five seconds in and be completely lost. The more it happened, the more lost I felt. I used to be smart, top of my class even. But right now, because of this, I felt like the dimmest bulb in the case.

Alice's arm slipped around my waist as she lead me to a row of seats toward the back of the room, away from the group of ten people that were seated in a circle ready for 'sharing is caring hour'. "Come on, let's sit this one out, so you can watch Dr. Hippy in his class try to help us find our inner peace. Really, once you look past all the bullshit it is quite calming and it does help you find a state of mind that you are comfortable with," Alice continued. My hand tugged on Edward's, forcing him to come with me and serve as my comfort blanket for a while more. My heart fluttered briefly once I felt him oblige and follow us.

His support was everything at this point. It was as if I could feel the pride emanate through him and into my depths. I looked back at him momentarily to catch his small smile radiating exactly the feeling I was receiving from him. His hand squeezed mine three times, silently reaffirming that he loved me, which only caused my smile to manifest. I felt like having a Sally Field moment and screaming, "He likes me, he really, really likes me!" for the entire crowd to hear, but figured it would be better suited if I waited until I could actually prove I could beat this addiction.

I listened to more of the chanting, and witnessed the group hugs, envious they all felt that comfortable with each other to fill the voids as they did. If someone's eyes got to glassy, another member of the team was there with a hand to hold or a comforting word, they were honestly in this together, and wanted each other to succeed. The thought was so foreign to me.

For the past month, I had lived a life where it felt as if everyone wanted me to fail. Everyone I knew wanted me to be doped up and live recklessly. For the past month, hands on me, other than Edward's, had been a bad sign. Typically, when I was touched it insinuated that something more was to come, that someone was about to use my body for whatever it was they wanted it to be. Watching them embrace without a second thought made me curious as to if I could at some point react so freely again. If I would ever be able to allow someone—some random guy—to touch me in any way. If the thought alone sent chills down my spine and made me want to crawl into and hide in Edward, how would I ever be able to cope with actual task?

Alice's nudge to my ribs woke me from my thoughts and pulled me back to the now. Quickly, she began to fill me in on names and occupations as they each talked and gave little tidbits of their story. She claimed that each time you talked about why you were addicted and why you were trying to overcome your addiction, you grew stronger and more focused on the future—I couldn't help but scoff. How would talking about what I wanted most actually help me overcome my addiction? Presumably, it would only cause my cravings get worse, wouldn't it?

Speaking of how the euphoria seeped into my mind, causing the world to seem right and whole was supposed to cure the empty void that was filling my soul? Seriously? If this is the true meaning of rehab, I was in the wrong place. Amy Pohler couldn't have said it better when she asked Seth Meyers, "Really? _Really_?" during the World Wide Update. Reliving everything that I found peaceful was supposed to make me want to remain in this life of pain and hunger, only to never feel the calming effects of the sedative again? Honestly! What are these people smoking?

When Alice stood up and cleared her throat, the group grew quiet and all eyes were on the both of us, alternating from her to me, then back to the little pixie standing just to my right.

"Hi, I'm Alice, and I have a problem; it's called seeing the future, or premonitions, I guess as some would call them. I started snorting to get the images out of my head, and before I knew it, I was addicted. The visions are gone when I'm high, so I am free, and clear to do as I like."

And just like that, I realized I was subject to a saga of the Twilight Zone. Anyone who can see the future—or at least thinks she can is seriously loco and out of her mind. At least my reason for shooting up was better than this chick's. Maybe she was still high. Maybe she needed to be in the psych ward rather than in rehab. Either way, it was pointless for me to be here.

My eyes shifted over to Edward's, trying silently to ask him if I really had to go through with this. He didn't even have to look at me to know my question, and the nod of his head was a definitive, "Yes, Isabella."

It took me three days before I actually said anything to anyone. I knew immediately that I was different—it was evident in everything they said. Every statement, every explanation was about what someone did to them to cause them to turn to a life of alcoholism or drug use. Sure, if I wanted to, I could blame my mother for my abandonment issues and my addiction to Edward. But I knew none of it was true. I could never in my right mind blame someone else for the decision and fate I brought upon myself.

I was the one who allowed Lauren to stick the needle in my foot. I was the one who went looking for more once my first high wore off. I was the one who continued with the drugs, even after I knew what I was doing. I was the one who slept with another man for the drugs. I was the one who chose all of this. It was me. It was my fault. And I would never allow anyone else to take the blame for my decisions. Not on this.

Nights were still my hardest time of the day, the time when I had the freedom to think. I don't know how many times Edward found me as a sobbing mess lying on the floor, or in cold sweats wanting medications or something to tie me over until my next fix…it was at that point I realized there never would be another fix. Edward began weaning me off of my Subutex, and began giving me nicotine patches to help with some of the cravings, informing me that sometimes it helped—all it did was make me nauseous, so that was short lived. I wondered shortly if taking up smoking would help before berating myself of even thinking about it. I would just be trading addictions, yet again.

My nightmares came in full force with dreams of James coming through the window and forcing needles in my arms, his friend holding me down while they plowed into me. Every dream was more vivid than the last and left me gasping for air I could never find. After waking each time, I always found myself wrapped tightly in Edward's soothing arms, begging him to make it stop, but the pain in his voice when he told me he couldn't, only made it worse.

Throughout everything, the one thing that killed me the most was hurting Edward. I watched as his eyes lacked luster, and the bags under his eyes grew darker with lack of sleep. Each day, I witnessed as he watched me more cautiously, waiting for me to break. With every moment that passed I knew he was blaming himself, and the more he did it, the more I hurt, and the more I needed—rather, thought I needed—a fix to cope with the guilt. I felt like I was fighting a battle I could never win.

Finally, my father came to the conclusion that Edward was helping me and booked a hotel room, only coming over for dinner or to check in on my progress each day. His eyes were always suspicious, but not as accusing as they once were. Charlie's reprieve was rather nice, and the three of us acted as we once did. Edward and I ate more take out than we were accustomed, due to the fact that he didn't want me to exert myself—and obviously cooking was a rather rough task. Weight started sticking to my deflated body and began to fill the voids that came with an overabundance of drug use. When Edward caught me purging one night to quit the excess pounds, Emmett was called into give me some sort of a workout routine so the weight gain would be a positive aspect of healing.

Counseling was going well. Dr. Banner forced me to read books about codependence and how to break away from dependency of others. If you ask me, they were all bullshit. The talking and airing of my guilt was what helped me the most. Through the help of Carmen, my shrink, I was able to compartmentalize my guilt into two different categories: the guilt I felt for doing this to Edward, which she claims I shouldn't feel, and the guilt I have toward myself for ruining my life as it was. She amended that it was natural to feel guilty for hurting Edward, but also taught me that I should only feel guilty for what I directly did to Edward, everything else would heal as I did. Her words only solidified when Edward agreed and told me to stop holding myself accountable for what he was feeling now, because at this point he was only beating himself up because of how guilty I felt.

Day five of rehab I finally stood up and said my peace, "I'm Bella, I'm a heroin addict, and it's my fault. I knew what I was doing, and I still chose that life style for myself. I let my family down, I hurt my fiancé, and I ruined a lot of trust in the process, and I wish I knew how to apologize for it all—but I don't. That's the part I regret the most." With those few words, I was done for the next several days.

Those words both freed me in a sense of, I was now in the open, and they knew what I was going through, but also chained me down. I felt like everyone was looking at me, judging me, labeling me. My brain knew none of it was true, but the brain only knows what the conscious allows it. And my conscious was hearing all the muted whispers and short bits of laughter that stopped the moment I entered hearing distance.

Over the next week, things between Edward and I began to even out into a normal routine. Once he deemed I was mentally stable and no longer suicidal, he purchased a gun, and we took lessons together in hopes for me to gain some semblance of protection outside of what he could offer. At first I thought the attempt fruitless, but the more I thought of it, the more I learned, the safer I felt. I knew that no matter what happened, I could defend not only myself but Edward as well. If James or Laurent ever entertained the idea of returning, I wouldn't hesitate. They would be dead upon arrival. I would be sure of it. They weren't about to permeate my life again and ruin what Edward and I were trying so hard to recreate.

Every night I fell asleep tucked tightly in his arms, and each night the dreams progressively diminished over time. The night sweats stopped, the cravings lessened, and therapy was going well, even to the point where I was feeling confident in my own skin, and was able to do a few tasks each day without Edward's approval. The cameras stopped flashing as life started going back to normal and they got wind of my unemployment status, then life began moving on.

The last time Edward and I shared ourselves with each other was too long ago for me to possibly recollect. His kisses still held all the power in the world, but it was proving insignificant. I needed more. I needed to feel closer to him, feel a part of him, but as each day passed, I felt more separated and even more detached from not only him, but by connection, myself.

I understood waiting for the test results to make sure I was safe for him, hell, I even understood waiting until I was a few counseling sessions in, but we'd been back together for over a month at this point, and he wouldn't allow anything to progress past kissing. Each rejection was like a dagger to my wounded ego, no matter how many times he insisted that he only wanted what was best for me. At this point, I was waiting for him to say he wanted to wait until we were married.

Day fifteen, when I pushed too hard, I realized why he wanted to wait. When he allowed his hands to cup my breasts in the heat of the moment, my entire body shut down screaming in protest. My mind kept screaming that it was Edward, but my body remembered the last time it was touched as such. Through tears and apologizing both Edward and I learned that mentally, I wasn't okay. Mentally, I had been scarred worse than either of us had realized, which only added to my list of things to receive counseling on. Luckily, Edward promised he would be there with me at every session, holding my hand.

That night I fell asleep with my face buried deep in the comfort of his chest while he softly stroked my hair and hummed me my lullaby. And in that sweet sentiment, I fell in love with the love of my life all over again. That was the moment I realized that no matter how hard recovery was, or how emotionally draining any of this would be, I had a light at the end of the tunnel. I had to be better for Edward. I had to find who I was again and grow as a person so I could be the woman he wanted me to be—or rather, the woman I wanted to be so I could make him happy, and in the end, make myself happy too.

Ever heard the theory, repeat something ten times to commit it to memory? It's true. But we have a different theory.

Anyone who has been to rehab tells you it takes ten days to start a habit, and twenty eight days to break it. With heroin… it's different. Most times people are addicted after one use, depending on the dosage. Rumor has it, it was a deeper need than any other addiction, it was something internal, something you couldn't qualify. I'd never done any other drugs, so I couldn't tell you the legalities of this statement, or if it could even be considered as truth. But I can tell you, after watching everyone else in my group fail and come back, I was dead set against it.

By day twenty, all cravings had ended, and I was a vocal member in my team. I never thought about the end of my treatment, never counted the days, never fully registered that in nine days I would be complete. That was until Alice reminded me. This was her third go through of treatment so she had nineteen more days to go—apparently, they added ten days to your sentence, each time you returned. Definitely not repeating this process. Definitely.

And day twenty two, my life stopped.

I was sitting in the common area with Alice, Peter, and Charlotte eating the stereotypical doughnuts when I felt two calloused hands come across my eyes, blocking my vision, effectively cutting all forms of communication around me. My body shut down as I inhaled the putrid scent of day old stink and stale hotel waft through the air around me.

"Hey, baby, I was wondering which one of these facilities I would find you in. I'm here to break you out."

Immediately, my hand shot out and clamped onto Alice's forearm, anchoring myself to something good, begging her for some guidance. I didn't want to take any part of the actions that were associated with the stench around me, but I wasn't sure if I should be able to trust myself yet.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Alice asked, her other hand resting soothingly on top of mine.

"Baby's lover," James answered. I almost retched. If anything had ever been farther from the truth, that was it. James was never a lover, he could never wear any title that ever carried the word love in it. He was a user, a demon sent straight from my own personal hell to destroy everything I had worked so hard toward.

"He's my dealer," I whispered, my voice harsh and raspy. I felt the table move slightly as someone pushed away and stood, causing their chair to scrape against the cheap tile floor.

"I think it's time for you to leave," Peter insisted. "You're not welcome here."

"I think we should let Bella be the judge of that, don't you, baby?" James threatened, finally lowering his hands from my eyes to my shoulders. The gesture, I'm sure, was supposed to look as if he were massaging my shoulders, but in reality he was pinching them, trying to make me cave to his desires.

I watched Peter's face grow red in anger. Peter and I had only met two weeks ago during one of our group seminars, Release the Guilt, and Grow as a Weed. We were the only two people in our group who blamed ourselves for our life experiences, and found that as our bonding point. He then pulled in Charlotte to our little group of misfits when she mildly flirted with him the next day. The four of us were a good support group, and talked to all hours trying to dissolve needs and any influence the drugs had left on us. This situation would be no different.

Strength radiated through me from Peter. His eyes stared into mine with more intensity than I had ever seen before now. Alice's hand kept me anchored, and Carmen's soft whispers of tomorrow and the future gave me the hope I needed to stay seated and to keep fighting. If I followed James, if I took the easy way out, I would lose everything I had worked for, I would lose Edward, lose my future, lose myself…and it would all be for nothing.

If I followed James, I would lose my faith, and as I had learned, we are nothing without our faith. The decision was harder than it should have been. The options were black and white but my induced mind screamed for me to follow. One more hit. That's all I wanted. It would take away all the yearning. Before I could say 'yes', my mind conjured up an image of Edward's face covered in disappointment.

Then and there, I knew I needed to completely cut that part of my life out of the picture. If I kept any windows open, I would fold.

"You know, James, I know where you live, why don't you go hang out at the hotel, and I'll come find you after last meeting today?" I asked, clasping onto Alice's hand tightly.

"Baby, I don't believe you'll really come. Your friends here will try to talk you out of it. Then again, I do know where you live, if you don't come to me, I'll just come to you."

"That is a possibility, although, my fiancé just bought a gun and was trained by SEALS on how to use it properly, and he upped our security." The word fiancé burned my throat when I said it. Was that what Edward was to me? Could I still look to him and call him my fiancé, or was he just simply my boyfriend again since I had tarnished the promise of forever?

James grabbed my hair harshly and yanked my head back so he could look into my face. "You're a terrible liar Bella," James seethed.

"Fine, come by and find out later. First, he'll shoot your tiny excuse for a dick off, before he lets you bleed out in our backyard. My father is a fucking police chief and you don't think he made sure we had the best arsenal teachers around?"

I was possibly one of the worst liars in the world, but I was scared shitless at the moment, and I would say anything to get James to back off. He waited a moment to see if I would fold or show some tell-tale-sign I was bluffing, once I gave none away, he immediately let go.

"This isn't over Bella. Just wait, I'll get what belongs to me again, and when I do, there ain't no turning back," James promised as he walked away from our table keeping his eyes on me.

All four of us watched as James left the premises, remaining quiet until he was out of sight.

"And why isn't that Jerk-Off behind bars right now?" Alice asked, rubbing my forearm, trying to instill some kind of peace, or to stop my shaking, I wasn't sure which.

"Because this is my fault, I didn't want to bring him into this," I answered looking down at my tray of sweets, suddenly losing my appetite and feeling of ease.

"Bella, he raped you," Charlotte tried, her voice soft and almost convincing.

I shook my head. "No, I traded him drugs for sex from the beginning, he was only taking what belonged to him," I answered, finally speaking the forbidden words aloud. To this point, I had never voiced my true feelings on why I hadn't reported James for all he had done to me. A few days ago, I had finally told the 'Chain-Gang' about the last time James had sex with me, each one of them began hollering at me explaining the many ways it was deemed rape.

Maybe my brain just compartmentalized it differently, maybe it was a defense mechanism so I wouldn't fall a victim to him, but I refused to view that last time as rape. Their insistence was beginning to wear me thin and show the holes in my theory. I had offered sex all the other times, or instigated some form of bartering, that time they had held me down, that time they insisted, and I said no.

Alice's fingers were in my hair, trying to correct the wrong James had created. "Bella, he threatened you. If you don't do something to stop him he's only going to hurt you again…and this time it could be worse."

My eyes shifted up and scanned my friend's faces, trying to gain some perspective. At the hospital they had ran a rape kit concluding I had been raped, claiming there was a lot of minor tears, and contusions around the apex of my body to my inner gift. Okay, so the words were warped by one of the nurses who was uber religious, but the more I thought about it, the more she was right. Everything that was inside of there was a gift—a gift I had chosen to give to Edward, a gift I only ever wanted Edward to have, but that gift was taken from me that night…as well as on many other occasions while I was unconscious.

I looked over at Peter and saw the determination there. "Bella, you deserve to be safe. What if he does come after you and he hurts Edward. What will happen then?"

That was all it took to get me into motion. I was on my feet and making my way to the pay phone immediately, begging Edward to come pick me up early and take me to the police station so I could file charges against James, in hopes to protect Edward.

With the click of the phone, I realized, I was no longer Bella the victim, but I was slowly becoming Bella, the fighter.

And man did it feel damn good.


	14. All the Pieces Together Again

SM owns twilight, but I recently acquired 25 Yankee Candles.

-  
Chapter Thirteen:  
All the Pieces, Together Again  
-

On day twenty two of rehab, I learned a little fact that was rather interesting. While I thought I was doing my own thing in rehab, coping and learning with no outsiders watching me, I was sadly mistaken. Five minutes after I hung up the phone with Edward, my father came running through the front doors of Clear View, his eyes panning the room, looking for me frantically.

"Dad, what are you doing here?" I asked, slowly approaching him. I could feel the questions ranging on my face, showing all my cards.

"We are meeting Edward at the Police Station. We're leaving now. That blonde guy that just left, the scruffy one that looked like he was up to no good, about six foot one, a buck eighty… that was the guy wasn't it? Wasn't it Bella?" my dad asked, immediately transposing from father to officer in a matter of seconds.

I could feel the blood drain from my face at his assessment. My dad knew, he saw James, he knew now, more than ever, how much of a disgrace I was to him. Not only was I a drug addict, but I participated with "a scruffy guy that looked like he was up to no good." Which was exactly how I looked while I was around him. The disappointment and fear I saw in my father's eyes made my heart beat slower, begging a quick death. The judgment was haunting, making me antsy.

Perseverance took over quickly, I had to distract him and turn the tables. Immediately I flew into fight or flight mode to defend myself. Too many questions were spanning my brain, trying to force themselves out at once and came out as a jumbled mess of unfinished questions.

"How did you… where were you…."

Where was he sitting that he saw James leave? How did he know that James was here? How did he know what happened? How did he get here this fast? How did he view me after seeing him?

"I've been sitting in the diner across the way waiting for that asshole to show up. I knew he wouldn't be able to stay away, and this way I could make sure you stayed in treatment," Charlie informed. Carefully, he took my arm and began leading me out the front door, showing his badge to the door monitor as we left.

Once we were out of the building, I jerked my arm away from his grip and looked at him incredulously. "You were doing what?" I demanded, completely flabbergasted by his revelation. His words weren't completely registering, but the anger from his sentiment sure was. I realized I wasn't the most innocent of children, I was no Mother Theresa, but in the same token, I asked for help. I was trying here. Yes, trust needed to be earned, but I was working on that! Couldn't he see the effort I was putting into this whole rehab and being a better daughter thing? I was trying so hard to be good enough for him, to make him proud of me again, and all that his words did was prove to me that it meant nothing—that I was nothing.

As much as I hated to admit it, my father knew me better than I knew myself. I swore to myself that I would never leave with James, if I ever saw him again I would run the other direction. Exactly the opposite actually happened. I was within moments of leaving with him. I would have had Alice not been strong for me.

"Bella, I had to make sure you were safe. I know guys like this James. I knew he would be back for you. I had to be there in case he showed up before you were strong enough. I had to protect you this time." His voice was the same I'd always heard when I'd fallen down and skinned my knee. It was soft and full of comfort—his fathering, nurturing voice.

My father and I were never ones for proclaimed vows of love and devotion. He was raised in the era that men were to be manly and not lovey dovey and I was his only daughter, we avoided awkward sentiments as much as possible. This was as close as it would get. I watched at the irritation and anger dissipated only to be replaced by love and worry.

His hand reached up and cupped my face gingerly, ignoring my slight flinch. "Bella, I don't know what I would do if I lost you too."

I melted into his arms, needing his support more now than I ever had before. Charlie's arms were tight and comforting just as they always were. I'd never been much of a daddy's girl, but the sentiment brought back all the memories of my childhood. All the times my father held me and guarded me from the boogy men under my bed, when he comforted me after a broken heart in high school (right before he went and locked the asshole in jail over night for disorderly conduct), and when the world became too much for me to bear. For all the times I'd alienated myself, tried to grow up and become an independent woman, he was always there to catch me when I fell. And that, to me now, meant more than anything I could have ever imagined.

Charlie held me like that until Edward came barging through the door, looking for me franticly. Even though he let go, my father kept me tucked into his side with his arm around my shoulders, still protecting me from whatever dangers may be lurking in the darkened corners of the world.

"That fucker was here?" Edward gasped, his eyes darker than I'd ever seen them, the fury evident. "We're paying thousands of dollars for you to get help here and they can't even fucking keep you safe?" he continued, his voice carrying to the nursing staff and check in attendants.

"Boy, I suggest you watch your language around my daughter," Charlie warned, his mustache twitching, trying to hide his amusement. He enjoyed seeing Edward riled up, especially when it came to protecting his little girl. "We're heading down to the police station to file a report against that low life, you coming?"

Edward looked from me to Charlie then back to me again and nodded his head, eager to get this step out of the way.

CSI, Law and Order, and any other cop show out there is a farce. When someone goes into file a report for rape, they don't just sit down and question you on the things that were done to you, they question you about _why_ those things were done to you. _Then_, as if that isn't humiliating enough, they threaten to lock _you_ up for purchasing contraband, solicitation, and a number of other things that I shut out. My entire body was shaking with rage and fear.

Rage because they made me sound like some two bit hooker that stood on the street corner looking for her next fix. Guilty. Fear because they were wanting to charge me as one.

Rage because they made me feel like a drug addict, a menace to society, a waste of space, a strain on our economy. Fear because I knew that had I not bottomed out, I would be.

They treated me like I was the scum at the bottom of our sewer systems, rat infested and polluted. The more they talked, the more I felt I fit the part. That was until a woman over heard what was going on in the interrogation room and threw a fit. She pulled every riot act she could think of and got the original officer thrown off the case. By the time she took over my questioning, I was a sobbing, inconsolable blob of mess in the chair awaiting my conviction.

She pulled her chair next to me and whispered her story to me, telling me of how when she was nineteen she was cornered and beaten to a pulp, raped, and left to die. She told me about how that made her feel, how dirty and unworthy it caused her to believe she was. Those feelings ended when she was able to stand up for herself and tell someone what happened, how the moment she confided in someone who could help she was able to fight back and take back the strength she had unknowingly given to them. Five years later, they were still in prison—because she was brave enough to stand up for herself.

After reliving her experience with her, I looked up into her eyes and knew that she could sympathize. She had been where I am, felt what I felt, and knew what I needed. Which left me with no options other than to spill everything. I told her about the hotel, about the weeks of no recollection, Lauren's OD, the last time James had sex with me, all the times he forced me to shoot up, and about all the times I tried to escape, but he wouldn't let me. I spilled every secret I could, trying to dispel all the evil James and his friends brought into my life.

Therapeutic as it was, I knew it wouldn't be the end of me telling my story, reliving it detail by painful detail, and seeing it in my dreams. This first time of revelation was exactly that—only the first time. I knew there would be trials and hearings and countless other things I would need to do before I would tell my story for the last time. Oddly enough, right now, looking into Detective Meyer's eyes I was fine with that—as long as James got what he deserved.

After spending five hours at the station, Detective Meyer assured me that she would do everything in her power to see that James paid for what he did to me—what he did to Lauren. The vow in her voice was enough to make me believe anything was possible with her on my side. With a comforting hug, she took me back out into the waiting area where my father and Edward were anxiously waiting for me. I watched as my father gave my first interrogating officers the stink eye, and mumbled under his breath until Edward felt my presence and looked up into my eyes.

Every time our eyes met, I felt like I was finally home. There was nothing that could come close to the warm feeling of togetherness I felt when we were together. The planets aligned, the sun shone brighter, everything made sense and felt right in the world. He was my everything and I could never ask for anything more.

I didn't remember falling asleep in the car, but I remember waking up in bed with a warm body next to me, holding me close to his chest. The smile was imminent, I felt it tugging at the corners of my lips, begging to showcase itself.

"Bella," Edward whispered, his fingers lacing with mine, and placing a soft kiss just above my ear.

"Hmm?" I asked, still rather groggy from my emotional rollercoaster of a day.

"Marry me?"

Words escaped me. I knew what my heart wanted, I knew what my mind was screaming at me, my entire body wanted to jump up and down in joy and laugh and shout an exuberant yes. But I needed something from him first. I rolled over and looked into his eyes, trying to search for any kind of answer he was willing to give me a glimpse at.

"We still have the venue on hold, no one but Emmett and Rose know we called it off…well and your father, but he'll be there regardless. I've waited an eternity to marry you, and I'm tired of waiting. I want to start our life now. I want to start forever now. I promise that I'll always be there, that work will take a back burner, that you and our relationship will always be first in my life. Be my wife? Make me happier than any man on earth?"

I laid there for a moment in silence, still reading his soul through his eyes, my hand resting on his cheek.

"On one condition," I bartered, trying not to smile.

"What's that?" he asked, his voice going hoarse and shaking a little.

"We move. This house has too many bad memories. I want one that is just for us, just our future together, our happiness, and one that will eventually be good for our kids."

"Our kids huh? How many are we talking?"

"I don't know, a few, as long as they all look like you," I teased but all the while imagining a copper headed little boy running around in the back yard with big green eyes and pale, beautiful skin.

"How am I supposed to control what our children look like?" he chuckled, pulling me closer.

I moved slightly, sliding my leg over his hip so I could pull his body flushed to mine, finding a rather prominent friend wedging himself between my stomach and Edward's body.

"Because you my dear, future husband are a brilliant doctor and can do anything when you put your mind to it."

Edward chuckled for a moment before leaning in and kissing me lightly, conveying all the emotions he felt in his heart.

"For a split second there I thought you were going to say no," he revealed, running his nose along my exposed neck.

"I can't say no to you, you're my drug," I whispered before his lips covered mine and worshiped them.

I don't know whether it was our declaration, or our moving forward, but that night Edward made slow, sweet and gentle love to me until the early hours of the morning. He was patient and attentive, and I'd never felt more complete than I did with him loving me in ways only he could. Life couldn't get much better than this.

I am Bella Swan, the future Mrs. Isabella Cullen, and my life was finally back on track.


	15. Epi

_This is the official end to the story. I am working on an Aftermath post-epi. No promises on when that will be posted because I am only half done with that. _

_Thank yous and new story info at the bottom._

_SM owns Twilight and chacters, I just own this little diddy. _

_-  
Shattered into Oblivion: The Epilogue  
-_

Ending Notes from the Publisher:

When it came time for publication, neither Bella nor Edward had anything left to say. Both made a comment about this project leaving them raw and exposed. Leaving me, their publisher and editor to fill in the gaps.

It took the couple five years to write Shattered into Oblivion, mostly due to impending trials and working on themselves before taking any steps in the direction of writing a 'self help book'.

When asked about the trial, Bella and Edward's answers are always simple and polite. They wish the best for them both, and their rehabilitation will remain in their prayers. Bella's break down after the trial was aired all over E! News, along with other celebrity gossip shows, but none bothered finding the reason for the emotional outburst. When I spoke to her about this, her only answer was she felt vindicated.

James is currently serving a maximum sentence in a disclosed location—a sentence Edward doesn't think is enough. Though Bella quickly amends, "What man would be?"

As many of you know from watching magazines and all the many celebrity news shows, the couple have gotten married, and are currently residing in Seattle with their families. Bella has been drug free since the 'incident' and reportedly, rarely entertains the idea of ever returning to that life style. When I talked to her regarding the subject, her answer was "I have everything I could ever want in life, why would I do anything to ruin it?" Her words were spoken with a soft hand on her stomach, and a gentle smile toward her husband. She has a glow about her that brings out a beauty no photograph could capture. She looked truly radiant.

I asked them how they were doing as a couple and both responded with an enthusiastic, "Amazing."

Bella elaborated. "We've never been better, we've finally found the balance, and we work hard every day to keep it steadfast. Edward just opened his own clinic so he only works nine to five; while I work at a little boutique downtown (Seattle) and make sure my hours correlate."

"We talk all day every day, even if it's just a phone call to tell the other we love them, or we miss them. This whole experience not only opened our eyes, but showed us what we have to do to have a healthy relationship while living such busy lives," Edward added, all the while not being able to take his eyes off his bride.

Even as an outsider, I could see the love radiating between the couple. There were moments of intimacy that made me feel as if I were intruding on a private part of their lives that wasn't to be witnessed by anyone other than themselves. Their hands always remained interlocked, Edward's thumb brushing the top of Bella's hand.

"Do you regret getting out of the modeling game?" I asked, hoping for a little more insight.

"I haven't really gotten out of it. Just taking some time off. Rosalie and I have worked on several projects together. We were both in a runway for an up and coming designer named Alice Whitlock. It's all about balance. If I want to take a job, I do, if I want to lay low, I do. I've found the happy medium and I don't want to upset it by moving back to LA and jumping back in head first. My agent (although he doesn't like it) understands, and is happy I've turned my life around."

When I asked if the Alice Whitlock she is speaking of in this interview is _the_ Alice from rehab, she simply answered, "The names in my story have been changed. But I will confirm she is a dear friend that has helped me out in many ways. I, in many ways, owe her my life, and I love her from the depths of my soul." She spoke with a tone of finality, indicating the issue was closed.

"Edward, how do you fit into all of these changes?"

He finally looks at me, his eyebrows raised slightly, as if he were pondering his answer before giving me any information. "Bella and I have a policy. Modeling is her dream—"

"Was, my dream," Bella interjects.

"_Was _her dream," Edward chuckles. "If she wants to pursue it, then we will. We will find the balance in that when or if the time comes, but we're doing it together this time. The last time we attempted it, we treated it as if modeling was her life, being a doctor was mine. This time around, it's our lives. They are a joint entity, and we will treat it as such."

"I have to say, I've known you guys for about five years now, and I've never seen you this happy, what's the secret?"

Bella leans her body into Edward's side and smiles. "Communication, soft stolen kisses as often as possible."

"Telling each other you love one another relentlessly throughout the day. It's impossible to ever hear those three words enough. You can never overuse 'I love you'," Edward interjects.

"Cuddling while watching TV, eating meals together, going to bed angry so you can have awesome make up sex," Bella adds. Edward smiles.

"There is that old saying that you're never supposed to go to bed angry. No fights are supposed to take place in your bedroom. We do the opposite. All of our fights take place in our bedroom. It's our room, our space to air it all out and get passionate. We have our separate rooms if we need time, and we respect that, but our bedroom, is just what it's always supposed to be, our sanctuary."

Whatever this couple is doing, it's working. The many times over the years I've seen them on red carpet events while supporting friends, or sitting in the front row of fashion week, they are always happy, always touching, and always together. They laugh together, cry together, and rejoice together as a single unit. It's beautiful to see, and it gives many others the hope of finding that balance in their lives..

Edward and Bella have been asked to do numerous reality TV shows, each one for something different. MTV wanted to continue the Newlywed series, the couple declined, wanting their private life to remain as such. A life doctor drama, the couple once again said no, Edward's job is not his life, and he will not treat it as such.

The newest development is TCL requesting to host a "Day in the Life of Expecting." The show would follow Bella day in and day out, documenting doctor's appointments, cravings, morning sickness, and mothering an unborn child. The couple was happy to announce that by the time this book is published, Bella will be about six months along, and both are ecstatic about the idea of being parents.

They haven't decided whether or not to open their lives for the documentary, but they are entertaining the idea of making home movies along the lines and selling them to TLC at a later time. This slight change gives them the privacy they want, along with the intimacy they already have. Edward is excited about the prospect of capturing every step of the pregnancy, but is more entrapped by the idea of becoming a father.

The couple thanks you for reading, and wishes you the best through the hardships that have brought you to this point in your life.

After many debates, and ultimately Bella wining, we have been encouraged to enclose the number for the US national help line. Please, if you suffer from drug abuse, or have been raped, do not feel as if you are alone. As this story very well told you, people in all walks of life has similar problems.

Drug Abuse Hotline: go to hdrugabuse (.) gov/nidahome (.) html to find the numbers for your area

_Thank you to everyone who reviewed, added, favorited, followed, read. You all seriously are what keep me going in this game. Without you, I think I would have lost my passion a long time ago. _

_Kim, my first line of defense. Chick, I don't even know what to say. Your support is uplifting and keeps me grounded all at the same time. you're one of a kind and I love you dearly. _

_Tif, my offense. You make my writing what it is. You find all the punctuation errors and make them right. We've been through so much together, especially since we live so far away. I'm truly blessed to count you as one of my besties! _

_Gee-oh-gee-oh-gee. I've sat here for five minutes thinking of what to say about you. You are single handedly the one person that can bring me to tears in two point five seconds. The best part is the tears are usually from laughing, so it's all good. cheese-sauce, I don't know what I would do without you. Why does Ausie have to be soooo far away? Thank you for all of your added support and insight into this story, you truly helped me make it into what it is. _

_My other story, (Correction, my NEW story) has been started and the prologue was just posted. Check out __**Ever, Ever After**__. **keep in mind, story name may change, because the betas and I are still going around on that. (gee, hurry up and remember the name!) _

_I got the inspiration from the Carrie Underwood song, Ever, Ever After off the Enchanted soundtrack. And kinda ran with it. It is every much fairytale centered, and I have a feeling at least two of the characters will steal your heart. _

_It is a very upbeat, angst free story in which Bella and Edward have a one night stand and three years later meet up. Find out what's changed, and what's remained the same. _


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